Captain and Mrs Crawley Stay the Night
by Lady Etiquette
Summary: After Matthew's surprise return from missing in action, he said he wanted to visit Lavina in London. Mary travels with him, planning to visit her aunt Rosamond, but when car trouble and a rain storm alter their path, events change their plans and their lives. Rated M to be safe. A little AU, but based on canon storylines. Thanks to Julian Fellowes for these lovely characters.
1. Chapter 1

March 1918 - Yorkshire

The dark blue Austin saloon glistened in the moonlight as it hugged the road, cutting through the Yorkshire countryside. Rivulets of rain swept over the glass windows and the top of the bonnet. Inside Lady Mary Crawley sat pensively with her hands in her lap, looking out at the darkened sky as the windscreen wipers squeaked back and forth, pushing the rain aside. "Oh my heavens," she breathed out somewhat nervously, "it's really starting to come down, isn't it?"

Matthew was preoccupied by several of the dials on the dashboard. He leaned forward narrowing his eyes to double check them before sitting back against the seat again, adjusting his legs. He stretched his gloved fingers tightly around the steering wheel.

Mary glanced over at him, a small tender smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She admired him in his uniform, grateful that he had returned home on leave from the Front; thankful to God that he and William had only been missing in action a short while, and were safe and sound. She let out a sigh of relief at the thought. He sat as though he was at attention, while his left hand periodically pulled or pushed the gearstick. "I say, it's raining buckets, isn't it?"

Matthew glanced over at her, his eyes were beautiful pale blue from under the brown leather brim of his officer's cap. "I'm sorry, Mary, I've been a little preoccupied, haven't I?"

She smiled at him. "Don't be silly. Anyone who has endured what you've been through has a right to be."

Her compassion made him smile. He loved that under her stoic, beautiful exterior was the heart of a lion. Yes, that is how he thought of her, Mary the Lionhearted. "I'm just glad I was able to break away to come home for a visit. Glad to be with you again."

Mary teased him. "Even if it meant you were thrust in to a singing duet?"

He chuckled. "Yes, especially that!"

Mary smiled and looked out the side window and listened as the sound of the car seemed to hum a little louder and the rain tapped against the roof. "Well, I'm sure you're excited to see Lavinia again and you'll want to spend all of your time with her."

His head nodded politely, but not earnestly. The truth was his trip to London to see Lavinia was more out of obligation. He cared for her tremendously, of course, and felt he should see her after having been reported missing. But he loved being with Mary and, in fact, she had been his real reason for visiting Downton upon returning to England. While stuck behind enemy lines, she had been his reason to hope. "Yes, of course," was all he said in answer to her comment.

Mary's social graces allowed her to grin, but her heart sank at the reminder that after arriving in London, Matthew would drop her off at Aunt Rosamond's and he would spend the rest of his time with Lavinia—gone again until his next leave. "Well then, we'll be there soon enough, won't we?"

He arched a brow and looked back at the dash panel. "Frankly, I'm not so sure. I'm a bit worried about the engine temperature. I'm not an expert but the dashboard dial would indicate that the water pressure appears to be warmer than it should be."

Mary didn't know, or really understand, motorcars. But she knew engines could become overheated. "Do you think we should stop?"

Matthew looked out the window. "Maybe. But the question is where?" Lightning flashed across the sky and heavier rain pelted the car. He bent his head down to look up at the sky. "It's gotten quite dark and the weather is bloody awful." Just then, white smoke began to stream from the nose of the vehicle. Matthew pulled the steering wheel to the right. Slowing down, he steered the car to the side of the road and rolled to a stop. "Well, fate has intervened for us, hasn't it?" He looked over at her with a pragmatic gaze.

Mary tilted her head in understanding. "What can I do to help?"

Matthew's brain seemed to click in to decisive action just at it would at the Front. He reached up and tightened his cap and then pushed the car door open as wind and rain water gushed in. Raising his hands up to his coat collar, he turned it up around his neck, and then stepped out in to the weather. He slammed the door behind him, prompting Mary to flinch in her seat. He dashed around the front of the car, the headlights beaming on his frame as he ran in front of them, and over to Mary's door. As he opened it he leaned down, rain dripping down from his cap, shoulders and arms, and spoke above the rain. "Can you check the boot for an umbrella? We'll need it."

Mary nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, of course!" She pulled her coat tightly around her and jumped out on to her feet and headed for the rear of the car. As she ran, water splashed up around her ankles. Lifting the lid of the boot, she bent over and rummaged through the contents buried deep in the back of the car.

Matthew had opened the cover of the front end of the vehicle. He bent over the engine, squinting his eyes, wiping the rain aside with a hand. He peered in trying to see something that he could screw tighter or snap closed. He reached in to his pocket and pulled out his gold lighter. He flicked the wheel igniting it and a small yellow and blue flame glowed in the dark as he held it under the bonnet.

Mary jogged up to his side, holding her purse over her head. "I'm sorry, Matthew, but I couldn't find a brolly in the boot."

Matthew turned his head and leaned his hands on the side of the car. "Are you certain?"

She nodded. "Yes, I think so."

He exhaled in frustration. "Well give it another look just to be sure, will you? We're British for God's sake; there must be an umbrella in the car!" It came out as an order.

Mary nodded vigorously again, her deep brown eyes vibrant in the darkness. "Yes, of course!" She turned and headed back to the other end of the car. As horrible as the conditions were, and as sopping wet as she was, somehow she was happy to be stranded with Matthew and sharing a silly adventure.

Matthew leaned back in toward the engine and then paused, realizing he had given Mary a command as though she were a sergeant. A moment later she rejoined him. He looked back up at her and noticed that the feather on her hat was now drenched and hanging limply to one side of her face, and she was soaking wet from head to foot. But her eyes still twinkled at him in the moonlight and the rain.

She blinked the rain away from her eyes. "I checked again," her teeth chattered slightly, "but unfortunately, we do not have a brolly. I am sure of it."

He had never loved her as much as he did right at that moment. He reached out a hand and took her by the elbow, "Come with me." He led her back around to her side of the car, opened the door and ushered her back inside.

Mary protested. "But I can help you!" rain drops glistened and dripped from her lips as she spoke.

He knelt down and placed a hand on hers. "I know you can—and you have." He wanted to tell her he loved her. "But you'll catch the death of cold out here, so I want you to sit right here and I'll check the engine one more time." He smiled at her reassuringly and then shut the door and headed back around to the front of the car.

Mary lifted her dripping wet hat off of her head and examined it. The feathers had all but washed away and the grosgrain ribbon was drenched in the stream of water that filled the brim. She huffed out a laugh to herself, and then looked back up at Matthew through the windscreen. Only now did she notice that as he worked to repair the car he seemed completely at ease and used to being in such dreadful conditions, a result of his years at the Front. Her heart clenched at the thought and she sighed trying to think of something she could do to help him. As she watched him out the window, she was distracted by something off the right. She cocked her head but still struggled to see it. She opened the door and stepped outside, holding her hand over her eyes to see as best as she could, and a smile crept across her face. She shut the door and, avoiding puddles, hopped around to where Matthew was standing.

"Mary it is awful out here! Please stay inside the car!"

"Matthew!" She touched his arm with one hand, and excitedly pointed to something off in the distance with the other. "Look!"

His eyes followed the direction of her arm. As a lightening flash lit the sky, he could clearly see the outline of a large house on a hill, about half a mile away. He looked back at Mary and laughed, a broad smile covering his face. "Mary you're wonderful! You found our rescue!" He shrugged his top coat off and held it up over their heads. "Come on!"

Side by side they walked down the road in the rain and the puddles, toward the old house. As they drew closer they could see lights in the windows. And Matthew could clearly make out the words on a small sign at the turn up the drive to the house: Bed and Breakfast.


	2. Chapter 2

Matthew was still holding his overcoat above their heads as he and Mary stood outside the front door of the Bed and Breakfast. The rainfall had lightened up, but still fell in steady drops. Lightning flashed again and Matthew glanced upward, peering around the edge of the coat. "God, what a bloody awful night."

Mary was clutching her purse in front her, huddling against his shoulder. "Maybe no one is at home?"

"The lights are on in the front windows. Surely someone is here. Why don't you give the bell another pull?"

Mary reached out to pull the bell, and just as she did the front door opened, prompting her to snap her hand back.

A tall, silver-haired gentleman dressed in tweeds and a polka-dot bow tie stood in the doorway. "Good evening. Can I help you?" His voice was pleasant and distinguished.

Matthew spoke up, lowering the coat from over their heads back to a proper place over his left arm. "Good evening, sir. I'm terribly sorry to disturb, but we are having a bit of trouble with our motor just up the road."

The older man smiled invitingly, waving them inside with a hand. "Oh, do come in! Please, do come in! You both look soaked to the bone."

Matthew and Mary stepped inside to a warmly lit entryway. Glancing around Mary noticed the home was Tudor-style, with heavy brown beams across the low ceilings. It was an older home but well appointed with chintz covered furniture and the occasional elegant accent piece and vases of fresh flowers.

"What a dreadful night for you two young people to be marooned." The older man chuckled politely and extended his hand to Matthew. "Allow me to introduce myself, I'm John Stringfellow."

Matthew shook his hand firmly. "How do you do. I'm Matthew Crawley."

John smiled, his eyes noticing Matthew's uniform lapels. "From the looks of it I'd say you are also Captain Crawley, is that right?"

Matthew pressed his lips in to an appreciative smile. "Yes, I'm afraid, for the duration of the war." He removed his cap and ran a hand through his hair, smiling at their host.

The elder man turned toward Mary. "And who is this lovely young lady?"

Mary spoke up. "Good evening. I'm Mary Crawley." She extended her hand and John shook it gently, patting it with his other hand. She felt comforted by his friendly eyes and kindly but slightly formal demeanor.

Matthew sighed. "Mary and I were travelling to London when I noticed the engine pressure in our car seemed to overheat. I tried to see what I could do, but to no avail; so we happened to notice your home." He brushed rain droplets off his sleeves. "Is this still a B&B?"

The gentleman laughed heartily. "Yes, yes. Business has fallen off a bit since the war, but we still get the occasional traveler. Usually they are stranded like you two."

Matthew spoke respectfully. "Well I'm terribly sorry for troubling you. I hope we aren't imposing in some way?"

John waved a hand at him. "Nonsense. It's a pleasure to have guests, especially when it's one of our lads in uniform."

A woman's voice came from around the corner. "John? Who is it?" Harriet Stringfellow was as silver-haired as her husband, and wore a simple black skirt and white blouse along with a sunny disposition.

John's smile brightened as he turned around. "Ah, Harriet, there you are my dear. Come and meet our guests, Captain and Mrs. Crawley."

Mary's eyes widened and Matthew's eyebrows shot up in surprise. They simultaneously realized that Mr. Stringfellow had misunderstood their relationship. Matthew reached a hand out to the older man's elbow. "Pardon me, sir, but I think there's been a…"

"Oh, how lovely!" Harriet's voice was kind and gentle with a slight brogue. She clasped her hands in front of herself as she admired Matthew and Mary. "A young military chap and his bride."

Mary tried to gently interrupt. "Oh, it's so very nice to meet you Mrs. Stringfellow, but you see Matthew is…"

"Home on leave Captain?" Harriet patted his forearm as she posed the question.

Matthew chuckled a little nervously in between glancing at Mary and trying to explain the truth. "Yes, I am. I only just arrived back in England this morning. But you see, Mary and I…we are..."

"Having a second honeymoon!" Harriet beamed at them.

Mary spoke up attempting to help Matthew explain. "Well, we've never had a first honeymoon Mrs. Stringfellow. You see, we are…"

Harriet's eyes brightened and she clasped her hands underneath her chin. "Newlyweds!" She turned to her husband. "John, why didn't you say something."

Mr. Stringfellow's bushy eyebrows went up as he patted his wife's back. "Well I only just found out as you did my dear." He turned to Matthew. "Well, this is quite unexpected Captain."

Matthew ran a finger along the inside of his collar. "You have no idea."

John put a fatherly hand on Matthew's shoulder. "Now, now, you two love birds don't want to stand here with Harriet and I all evening, so I think the first order of business is to collect your things from your motor so you can get situated in your room."

Harriet reached out and began helping Mary off with her coat. "Yes, yes, you two look like drowned rats, for heaven's sake. It is pouring out there! And we have the perfect room for you to warm up in this evening."

Mary blushed at the implication and chuckled as her coat was slipped down her arms, revealing her flower printed blouse and red skirt. "Thank you Mrs. Stringfellow. This is most kind of you." The way the elder woman assisted her hinted at previous domestic service.

"Not at all, Mrs. Crawley." She shook Mary's coat out and draped it over her arm. "Have you had any dinner this evening?"

Mary looked at Matthew. His uniform was drenched and his cheeks and hands were still red from the cold night air. "Well, we had a bit of tea earlier, but nothing very substantial I'm afraid, was it?"

Matthew returned her gaze. Mary still looked drenched and she had circles under her eyes from being out in the rain. "Yes, I'm afraid Mary is right. We haven't had much to eat this evening."

"Well, it won't be much longer," John said jovially. "Harriet is a marvelous cook! When we return with your luggage, you two can enjoy a nice hot meal before you withdraw for the evening." He leaned toward Matthew's ear, "And perhaps a nice bottle of wine?"

Matthew felt himself flush and he raised a fist to his mouth and cleared his throat. The evening was becoming more and more awkward by the minute; yet, as improper the thought of sharing a room with Mary was, he felt an electricity crackling through his entire body.

John stepped over to the coat rack, grabbing his coat and slipping it on. "I have a car, Captain. It should only take us fifteen minutes or so to collect your things. And I'll call the motor technician in town to repair the vehicle first thing in the morning."

"Thank you, Mr. Stringfellow, it's most kind of you. Might you also have a spare umbrella?"

"You must be joking." John laughed and reached down in to an umbrella stand and pulled out two large black umbrellas.

Matthew turned to Mary as he buttoned up the brass buttons of his coat. "Will you be alright darling while I get our things?"

Mary gave him an affectionately devious smile at the sound of his endearment. "Yes, my love, I'll be just fine." She reached out and buttoned the last button of his coat. "...and waiting."

Matthew put his cap back on and situated it. He reached down and gingerly lifted one of her hands and bent over and kissed it. "Mrs. Crawley," he whispered, looking up at her from under the bill of the hat.

Mary felt the warmth of his kiss, and the piercing blue of his eyes, all the way through to her heart, which clenched inside of her at the sensation of his touch.


	3. Chapter 3

Matthew reached in to the back seat of the Austin and pulled out their bags. First, Mary's luggage, two suitcases and a valise, and then his small military overnight case. He was grateful the rain had relented while he and John retrieved the luggage and secured the car for the night. He was used to being wet most of the time in the trenches, but on leave he preferred to dry out.

"Well, John, I think that's everything," Matthew said brushing the palms of his hands together, his breath visible in the night air.

John shut the backseat door of his car. "Alright, Captain, lets head home before it starts raining again!"

Matthew grinned and quickly climbed back in and took the passenger seat. John started the car, the engine purred to life, and they were on their way back to the house. John glanced over at Matthew, who was looking out the window. "You are anxious to return to her, aren't you?"

Matthew looked over at him. "You mean Mary?"

"Yes, yes, of course, my lad." John let out a long sigh. "I may be old but I haven't forgotten young love."

Matthew rubbed his brow and felt he had to straighten out the truth with John and Harriet once and for all. "Yes, about that, John, you see, the truth is that Mary and I…well, we aren't…"

John smiled and held up a hand. "Not to worry, I know exactly what you are going to say."

Matthew's voice was tentative. "You do?"

He looked at Matthew with kind eyes. "And little tiff now and again is perfectly normal, and can even be a good thing for a young couple. Love can be complicated."

* * *

Mary stood in the dining room holding a cup and saucer, enjoying a sip of tea. She stood admiring a small oil painting of a young woman wearing a pale blue gown. "Mrs. Stringfellow, this is a lovely painting. Do you mind if I ask about it?"

Harriet was putting the finishing touches on a small dining table for two. "Of course not, dear."

Mary stepped closer to the painting. "Who is it?"

Harriet glanced up demurely as she set out the wine glasses. "Well, if you must know, it's me."

Mary looked over her shoulder, a smile forming on her lips. "Oh, it's lovely. What was the occasion?"

The older woman smiled and joined Mary in front of the picture. "It was done for my wedding day. In those days wedding dresses were still done in light colors."

"Oh, Mrs. Stringfellow, what a beautiful portrait!" She was impressed.

Harriet straightened her shoulders, proud of the rendering of her younger self. "It's so kind of you to say so, Mrs. Crawley, thank you. My father commissioned it by a painter who was quite famous at the time."

Mary looked at Harriet, suddenly realizing that her suspicion of experience with domestic service was correct, but not because Harriet had been a lady's maid, but rather because she had been attended by one. "What a gracious wedding present from your parents."

Harriet smiled at the memory. "Oh, yes, they were quite lovely people. My father was a banker for Lloyds and he was also a Colonel in the Royal Fusiliers. He met my mother in India, where her father was the attaché to the British Ambassador."

Mary was enamored with Harriet's story. "How did you meet Mr. Stringfellow?"

Harriet smiled demurely, a girlish color returning to her cheeks. "John was a brilliant young university student. He was on a scholarship program, but still secured a position with Lloyds. My father saw something in him and admired him, so he took him under his wing. They had a great affection for each other." She sighed. "And one day I dropped in to Father's office, and he introduced me to John."

Mary smiled. "It was meant to be."

Harriet laughed. "I suppose so, yes. We were from different backgrounds, John and I, but I fell in love with him." She stepped back over to the table and finished setting it as she spoke. "Oh, I had other proposals, mind you. In fact I was engaged to quite a successful chap named Paul Stevens." Harriet laughed. "Pour John, he hated Paul!"

Mary chuckled and picked up two plates off the side board to set them on the place settings Mrs. Stringfellow had arranged. "Your pa-pa must have had been livid."

"Not necessarily. I think my parents disliked Paul as much as John did." She giggled. "But the very next night John proposed and I accepted." She clasped her hands under her chin as she thought back. "It was lovely. And it was the best decision I have ever made."

Mary was absorbed in the story, and saw Harriet's eyes fill with love. "Yes, I can imagine it was."

* * *

John spoke empathetically. "I think the war has complicated a great many people's lives, indeed. But real love, _true love_….well, that's rare but the two of you have it. A blind man could see it a mile away. It's the way she looks at you when you're not looking—the way she gazes at you."

Matthew blinked and then turned his attention to the scenery again. _Gazes_… He thought for moment. "I suppose I hadn't really realized."

"Quite, right. And you, my lad, are just as besotted as she is." John chuckled. "If I were a betting man I'd wager that you proposed to her more than once."

Matthew hadn't actually proposed to Mary a second time, but he had thought about it. "How did you guess?"

The older man shrugged. "Before I married Harriet, she was engaged to another man."

Matthew was intrigued. "Is that so?"

"I'm afraid it is," he thought back on the events in his reverie,"Harriet and I had been betrothed but broke our first engagement; so later on I proposed to a girl named Penelope, and Harriet accepted a man named Stevens."

Matthew grinned seeing the glint of youthful pride and jealousy in John's expression. "Why didn't you marry her—Penelope, I mean?"

"She was a lovely girl. But I decided that in life we are a short-time-single, and a long-time-married. Marriage is a long business, and when I came to terms with that I was able to set aside my own stupidity and decided that I should marry the girl I was truly in love with, which was Harriet." He looked back at Matthew. "And equally as important, Penelope deserved to have the same opportunity with a chap who was _really_ in love with her."

John's words floated around Matthew's head as he thought about Lavinia. "Yes, of course," was all he said quietly.

The house was just up the drive on the right as John finished his story. "The point is, young man, youth is wasted on the young. Life is short, and there is no such thing as the perfect marriage or the perfect romance…because there is no such thing as the perfect person." He pulled the car to a stop and parked beside the house. "So as you spend this time with your bride before you return to the Front, do what is in your heart." He put a warm hand on Matthew's shoulder. "Take her in your arms and tell her you love her."

Matthew smiled quietly, "Thank you," he said taking in John's well-meaning words.

They stepped out of car and John piped up. "I say, Captain, I owe you an apology. You started to say something back up the road and I interrupted you and have been jabbering on. Please forgive me. Now, what was it you were going to say?"

Matthew thought about it and a smile drifted across his lips. "Nothing, sir….it was nothing at all."

* * *

Harriet looked at her. "Surely you and Mr. Crawley have had a romance, haven't you dear? I mean, despite the war of course."

Mary exhaled. She wasn't sure what to say. "Sometimes love is complicated."

"Oh, Balderdash! That's something a man would say. Love isn't complicated, dear. _People_ are." She put a hand on Mary's arm. "Your handsome husband clearly adores you."

Mary's eyes implored her. "Oh, I'm not so…"

"No, no, it's as clear as the nose on his face. And all couples have their ups and downs, especially young ones like you. And men are funny creatures—little boys at heart, really." Harriet stepped closer, her voice becoming a whisper. "The important thing is that when you and Captain Crawley are up in your little room together, that he knows you love him and that you will take care of him, no matter what. That he is the only man in the world for you…just as you are clearly the only woman in his heart. And there is _nothing_ complicated about that."

As the two women stood in the moment of their words, then men's footsteps could be heard and Mr. Stringfellow's voice arrived from down the hall. "Harriet, dear?"

Harriet patted Mary's hand and smiled, and then replied over her shoulder. "We're in here John!"

Mr. Stringfellow appeared in the dining room, with Matthew beside him. "Ah, here you ladies are."

Harriet set a small round vase of fresh roses in the center of the table. "I was just setting the table for our newlyweds."

Mary's eyes glanced at Matthew, just as he looked over at her. Their eyes met from across the room and they held the gaze for several seconds. He couldn't help but think about what John had said..._it's the way she looks at you when you're not looking_. He stepped over toward her, touching a hand to her arm and admiring the dining table. "I hope you didn't go to too much trouble on our account, Mrs. Stringfellow."

"Not at all, Captain. Newlyweds should dine with ambiance."

"Well, I'm ashamed to say that I only have my uniforms with me and not proper evening attire."

Harriet waved a wrinkled hand at him. "Oh, my dear Captain, you are on leave, on your honeymoon with Mrs. Crawley, and you both spent the better half of the day in the rain. You should relax and enjoy your time together. And here you have the privacy to do that comfortably and without worrying about the little rituals."

He smiled at her and shared a glance with Mary from the corner of his eye.

"Now," Harriet started, "what dishes do you prefer with your roast beef? Don't be shy, we have it all." She stood, smiling and waiting for their answer. "Do you have a favorite, Captain?"

Matthew hesitated, thinking about his favorite food and what Mary would like. "Well, I suppose some of my favorites might include…"

"Sautéed carrots and roast potatoes." Mary felt slightly embarrassed at her recall of Matthew's favorite foods. Everyone looked at her. She self consciously muttered, "That is, I mean, I think those are…"

"Absolutely right." He smiled affectionately at her.

Across the room, Harriet whispered to her husband. "Can you retrieve a bottle of champagne, my sweet? I think our newlyweds could do with a bit of bubbly to chase away the rain…and a few wedding night jitters."

* * *

**A/N ** Hi and thank you for reading everyone! Sooooo...I'm thinking M/M, our accidental newlyweds, deserve to have a nice quiet dinner for two. :)


	4. Chapter 4

"Do you remember the last time we had a quiet meal alone together?" Matthew was slightly turned in his seat, facing Mary, the same way he had been all those years before on the night he was referring to.

She looked at him coquettishly. "Yes. That was almost five years ago. As I recall, that was the same evening you found it necessary to remind me of all the horrid things I said to you when we first met." She took a sip of her Bordeaux, watching him from under her eyelashes.

Matthew arched a brow. "True," he said, picking up the wine bottle and reaching over to top off her glass, "but it didn't stop me from kissing you, did it?"

Mary's mouth turned up in to a small smile at the memory. "No, it didn't." She had butterflies in her tummy and liked this line of questioning. She enjoyed how casual he was away from Downton. He was leaning an arm against the table in order to face her better, at ease in the lovely surroundings of the dining room. His relaxed demeanor was refreshing and made her realize how formal and stiff Downton Abbey could be, especially for a military man on leave from the war; it would be like replacing one regimen with another. She wondered why he would want to visit at all?

Matthew sipped his wine. "Five years—seems like a lifetime ago, and in other ways as though it were just last week." He took another sip. "What exactly is the precise duration of time for a married couple to be classified as newly wed?"

Mary cocked her head, thinking. "I believe it's one year or less."

"If we had married five years ago we might be sitting here with a family."

She smiled. "Perhaps. Two children maybe?"

He leaned closer, his elbow on the table. "And you would be expecting again." His blue eyes had turned almost black and bore straight through her.

Mary's head straightened up and she wrinkled her brows. "A third baby in five years? Why am I always pregnant in this scenario?"

He laughed and started to say something, but was interrupted by Mrs. Stringfellow. "Oh, good my dears, it sounds like you are talking about babies. How delightful!"

Mr. Stringfellow followed her in, holding what appeared to be a small round white cake with several tea roses arranged in the center. He set it down between Mary and Matthew. "Ah, there we are!"

Matthew looked at it with a pleasant grin on his face. "What's all this?"

Harriet set down an ornate silver cake knife in front of them. "Well, since you two had rather hurried nuptials, we thought you might have missed a few of the niceties."

"Yes, quite," John added, setting down a bottle of Bollinger champagne, "so we thought a cake and champagne might be in order. And Harriet makes a marvelous cake."

Mary's smile was genuine. "How lovely!" She looked at Matthew who was giving her a knowing stare. "I absolutely love cake. And champagne!" She turned her eyes back up to the Stringfellows. "But on one condition…that you must join us for desert."

John tried to brush her invitation off. "Nonsense, young lady, you two don't need us loitering around you on such a special evening."

Matthew stood up. "On the contrary. I cannot think of anyone else we would rather share it with. Isn't that right darling?" He shot a glance over at Mary.

"Yes, absolutely!" She nodded to emphasize his point.

Matthew held the chair next to his out for Mrs. Stringfellow. He waited as she pondered, and then the elder lady finally, and gracefully, took her seat. "Well it is so kind of you to include us."

John reached up in to the china cabinet and withdrew four round champagne glasses, which were quickly filled. Mary picked up the knife and carefully cut four small pieces of cake, and set them on the plates that Mrs. Stringfellow had brought in with her.

They all 'oooed' and 'ahhed' at their first bite of the confection. "Oh, Mrs. Stringfellow, this is simply marvelous." Mary slid the fork out of her mouth slowly, relishing the desert.

"I'm so glad you think so. Now, my dears, you must honor the tradition of the wedding cake."

Matthew stopped chewing and regarded her. "Tradition?"

"Yes, of course," John's voice was tinged with humor. "You know. After the newly married couple takes a bite of their cake, they share a kiss." He winked at Matthew from across the table.

Mary quickly washed her bite of cake down with a sip of champagne. "Oh, well, I don't think we should…that is to say, we really don't have to…"

Matthew swallowed his bite, seeing the expressions on the Stringfellows faces, and then looked at Mary. He reached up a hand and adjusted the knot of his necktie. Maybe he was feeling the wine and the bubbly, or maybe he was swept up in being home again…or maybe it something else. "Well, I think one small kiss might be alright darling, don't you?"

She sniffed nervously and glanced down at her desert plate. "Well, I suppose one small tiny kiss would be alright."

"Ah," Harriet exclaimed. "Then we'll toast."

Matthew dabbed his lips with his napkin and took another sip of Bollinger. Mary followed suite. He reached for her hand and clasped it in his. Mary smiled demurely as he leaned over and pressed his lips against the corner of her mouth. He held the kiss for a second or two, and then sat back down. As he resituated himself, he cleared his throat.

Harriet looked crest fallen. "Oh, heaven's my dears. That's it?"

Matthew looked hurt. "Well, Mary and I are rather conservative, you see."

John waved his hand. "No newly married couple is _that_ conservative. Come along, man, honestly."

Matthew glanced at Mary sideways and took another sip of champagne. The truth was he desperately wanted to kiss her. Her doe-like brown eyes glimmered and her cheeks were pink from the wine. She had gone along with all of the madness of the evening, and the madness of their friendship. When they had reminisced about their first kiss earlier it had warmed his heart, and his toes, to think about it. He cherished the memory. Would he ever have a chance to kiss her again?

Mary didn't know what to do. She felt a tiny piece of frosting on her lips and swept her tongue across her mouth. Suddenly, her hand was in his, and he leaned toward her again. He paused just in front of her and looked in to her eyes. She felt her heart beating faster and faster, gazing in to the blue depths of his lovely eyes, as the world was about to open up and spin out of control. His lips were just inches from hers and she could feel his breath on her skin. He moved forward and gingerly touched his mouth to hers, tentatively at first, and then tenderly nipped at her lower lip, eliciting a soft sigh from her. Their lips brushed against each other, seductively, and then he pressed his mouth to hers, leaning in to feel her. Mary's fingers reached up and touched his ear, and she could feel him hum against her as her thumb rubbed tiny circles on his skin. He tasted like frosting and champagne, and something else uniquely him. Time seemed suspended as he sweetly and lovingly held the kiss and gently caressed her hand with his fingers. Yes, she could have had three children in five years with _this._ And then, ever so slowly, he pulled away, with a gentle smacking sound.

As he leaned back, Mary's eyes remained closed and her head was tilted back, as though her head was floating on her neck. Matthew's lips curved up in to a smile watching her, and he licked his lip, tasting a trace of vanilla cream. A second passed, and her eyes slowly fluttered open. She blinked and cleared her throat, looking back at Matthew, and then the Stringfellows. "Oh," her voice sounded deep and seductive, "Where were we?"

Harriet smiled and raised her glass. "Now that was a kiss."


	5. Chapter 5

They headed up and around to the third floor and down a well appointed hallway. Harriet smiled over her shoulder, "Ah, here we are!" She stepped inside the room and clicked on the light. "I do hope you like it."

Mary stepped inside, carrying her valise, and immediately fell in love with it. It was a corner room, with large windows, a fireplace and against the far wall stood a substantial Victorian four poster bed. The drapes and the bedspread were matching navy blue, and there were two overstuffed chairs in front of the fireplace, upholstered in burgundy velvet. The room was also appointed with a vanity and a slipper chair, and a sturdy antique armoire. "Oh, Mrs. Stringfellow, what a delightful room!"

Harriet smiled as she appraised the room. "Thank you. I knew you'd like it. And it has its own lavvy just across the hall, which will be nice and private for you."

Matthew set the luggage down and looked around appreciatively. John removed several luggage stands from the armoire, and set the bags on top of them, then stepped over to the fireplace and tossed several fresh logs on to the grate, bringing the dying fire crackling back to life. "There, now, that should warm the room up a bit, and there is more firewood on the hearth."

Harriet assessed Matthew's uniform. "Captain, if you would like your uniform pressed, please let me know and I will take care of that for you first thing in the morning. My ironing room is just down the hall and won't take any time at all."

Matthew glanced down over his attire. "Do you really think it needs it?"

Harriet patted his arm. "I'm afraid being out in the rain has made you a little rumply, dear. But not to worry, a little pressing and you'll be spit and polish again in no time."

"Ah," he said, "Well, thank you Mrs. Stringfellow that is most kind of you. I'm used to rising early myself, so I'll come and find you in the morning."

Harriet tugged John's hand. "Alright my dears, we shall leave you on your own at last. Our room is on the second floor, so you have the entire third floor all to yourselves and won't need to worry about any interruptions. But if you should need anything just come down and give us a knock."

Mary smiled. "Thank you, both of you, for everything. I don't know where Matthew and I would be tonight if it weren't for your kindness and generosity." She leaned up on her tip toes and pressed a kiss to John's cheek.

The older man chuckled. "Thank you for letting us make a fuss over you, young lady." He put a fatherly hand on her back as he and Harriet left the room, closing the door behind them.

The minute they were alone, Matthew let out a breath if air and looked at her and held a hand up. "First of all, I'm sorry about the kiss."

"You are?" Mary looked slightly offended and conceited at the same time.

"Well, no, I don't mean I'm _sorry_ for it, but they were somewhat insistent and I thought you might be embarrassed, is all."

She shrugged off her coat. "Oh. No, no, not at all." She looked around the room as she hung her coat up in the armoire. "Oh, Matthew this room is quite wonderful, isn't it?"

He was unfastening the Sam Browne leather shoulder-belt from across his tunic. "Yes, it is." Slipping the strap off, he pulled at the double buckle of his waist belt. "But we'll have to sort out the sleeping arrangements."

She crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed and began unbuckling her shoes. "What did you have in mind?"

He draped the leather belts over the arm of one of the chairs and began pulling at the buttons of his tunic. He looked around the room and looked at Mary. The truth was he had never spent the night with a woman before. There were a few passionate evenings at university with a girl he had met at a party; and then there had been one rather late evening last year in Paris when he had visited the City of Lights with several other officers and he met a woman at the Folies Bergere. All of those experiences had been flirtatious, somewhat inebriated moments, but he had never actually spent the night with any of them. "Well, I think the obvious solution is that I should sleep on one of the overstuffed chairs. They have foot stools so I can stretch my legs out, and they are in front of the fire which will be nice and warm."

Mary slipped off her second shoe and dropped it on the floor with a thud. "Absolutely not. That arrangement is _out_ of the question." She stood up with her hands on her hips.

He shrugged his tunic off. "But why? It will be perfectly comfortable."

"Matthew, you have been living in the trenches, sleeping in a bunker and surviving under God only knows what sort of horrific conditions. Your leave should be comfortable, relaxing and civilized. I won't have you crumpled up on some chair all night."

"Mary, compared to the Front, that chair is the Taj Mahal." He draped his tunic on top of the belts. "I can assure you it will be perfectly fine."

She crossed her arms in front of her. "No." As she watched him he turned to face her, his expression a study of control and suppressed frustration.

"_No_?" He knew she would never relent. He let out a long breath, and scratched the back of his head. "Well, then what do you suggest?"

"I think it's perfectly obvious. You take the bed and I'll sleep on the chair."

Matthew looked exasperated, pulling at the knot of his necktie. "Don't be _ridiculous_." He slipped the knot down, loosening the tie. "I will not sleep in a luxurious bed, while a woman is forced to," he waved his arm toward the one of the chairs, "bivouac like a soldier. It's preposterous. I won't hear of it." His nose sniffed empirically as he slipped his tie free and tossed it on top of the tunic.

Mary stood her ground, now tapping a finger on one of her crossed arms. As he had removed a layer of clothing her eyes glanced over his torso and then back up. "Let me be perfectly clear Captain Crawley. While you are home on leave, it is your duty to rest and fully recuperate. Consequently, you are not—whatsoever—sleeping on anything other than a warm, comfortable bed." Her tone was defiant.

He shifted his feet and rested his hands on his hips. "Well, then it would seem we are at an impasse."

She nodded. "So it would seem."

He stared in to her eyes and saw the twinkle in them. She loved their sparring as much as he did. "Very well then. If I am forbidden from sleeping on one of the chairs, and you are not permitted to do so either, then how do you propose we negotiate the sleeping arrangements?"

Mary looked over at the bed and then back at him. "Matthew, the bed is enormous. How about if you take one side of it, and sleep on top of the covers with a blanket; and I'll take the other side of the bed and sleep under the covers?"

He closed his eyes and pressed his lips. "That is entirely inappropriate." He huffed out a laugh. "It is out of the question."

Mary's face softened at the sound of his words. He was right. Her shoulders lost their stance and she sighed. "I suppose you are right," she said quietly. Her eyes looked vulnerable and her lips formed a little crooked smile. "I'll go down stairs and tell the Stringfellows the truth and ask for a second room."

She stepped past him toward the door. As she pulled it open, his arm stretched out beside her and the palm of his hand gently pressed the door until it shut quietly. He was standing directly behind her, his mouth near her ear. "I'm sorry." His voice was soft and understanding. "You're right of course. It's terribly late. Of course we can share the bed and it will be perfectly alright."

Slowly, Mary turned to face him. She leaned back against the door as his arm was still out stretched beside her. "You don't have to worry. I won't bite."

He smiled. "It wasn't you that I was worried about." His eyes searched her face, then lowered his head and looked at her with amused authority. "And _no one_ must ever know about this."

Her face brightened. "Thank you." He let his arm drop and she stepped over toward one of her suitcases. "Now, would you like to use the lavvy first or shall I?"

* * *

Harriet sat at her vanity, brushing her silver hair. She was looking at a picture of her son, Tom. The young man in the photo was dressed in an officer's uniform. "What do you think he is doing now?"

John was in bed, reading The Times. He looked at her over his glasses. "I'm sure he is alright, my love, truly."

"Our young captain reminds me of him." She sighed. "I wish Tom had gotten married before he went back."

"He'll have the opportunity when he comes home—safe and sound. I know it." John tossed the newspaper on to the floor. "Come on now, time for bed. We've had an exciting evening and tomorrow's another day."

Harriet finished her hair and headed for bed, climbing in next to her husband. "I wonder if Captain Crawley would ferry a letter for us to Tom? The Royal Post always takes so long to get our mail over there."

John wrapped his arm around her. "Yes, yes, I'm sure he could make arrangements to get a letter to Tom's regiment." He rubbed her arm lovingly, yawning as he drifted off. "Now get some rest, dearest."

Harriet watched the fire popping and flickering in their fireplace. As she nodded off, she smiled at their day and her thoughts meandered around in her head, thinking of the next letter she would write to their son in the morning. Maybe something about that pretty girl in town he was seeing during his last visit home?


	6. Chapter 6

Matthew returned from across the hall, still wearing his uniform shirt, trousers and shoes. He had a towel draped over his arm and was carrying a brown leather shaving kit. Upon entering the room he paused as he saw Mary seated at the vanity. She had changed in to her night clothes and wore a floor length cream night gown covered by a long pale lavender satin dressing gown cinched tightly around her waist, and matching slippers. He noticed her hair was still up which secretly pleased him as he had always wondered what it would be like to watch her pull her hair free from her combs.

She looked up at him and noticed there was something different about him. She couldn't put her finger on it. It took her a moment to realize what it was, but at last she saw it: he had shaved. "Refreshed?" She asked smoothing her hands over her robe.

"Yes. But there is one little routine that I wonder if I might prevail upon you for some help with?"

Mary looked curious. "Oh?"

He appeared self conscious. "Yes." He reached back down in to his bag and retrieved a bandage and a small bottle of clear liquid. "I have a small nick on my left side and the doctor gave me a solution to put on it at night, but I have trouble reaching it. Do you mind?"

Mary was glad to help him. "No, of course not, don't be silly. You know you don't even have to ask."

He hesitated and then unbuttoned his shirt, revealing he was wearing a white under shirt beneath it. He peeled his shirt off and tossed it over his other uniform pieces on the chair arm. He carefully lifted up the hem of his under shirt, revealing a long white bandage on his left side.

Mary reached forward to help him, tenderly lifting the bandage. She suddenly gasped and a hand flew up to her mouth. "Matthew!" She was looking at a long, angry reddish brown scab from what appeared to be a knife injury.

He held up a hand and tried to reassure her with his eyes. "Before you get upset…"

Her eyes were wide as saucers. "Matthew! That is not a nick!" She rested her hand on her chest. "That is a seven inch knife wound!"

He pressed his lips together like he did when he was nervous. "It's from a bayonet, actually, and…"

"A bayonet?! Good God in heaven!" She tugged at his free hand, pulling him over to the chair, motioning for him sit down. As he sat, Mary knelt down on her knees between his thighs and motioned for him to slightly turn. Leaning over his torso, she angled her head and inspected the injury. "Oh, Matthew. How in God's name did you get a wound from a bayonet?"

"It was attached to the end of the German soldier's rifle." He leaned back while she assessed him. "He was trying to," he paused, looking over at her, and decided to revise the truth. "We were wrestling with the weapon and I rolled to one side and he caught me with the tip."

She glanced up at him. "What happened to him?" Mary tipped the bottle on to the linen bandage and gingerly dabbed at the scrape.

"Oh, er, we took him prisoner and he was transported to a first aid station." It was a lie. He had retrieved his side arm from the mud and used it on the German, but there was only so much he wanted Mary to know about the war.

She sighed as she dressed his wound. "Well, it does appear to be healing quite well." For the first time she was faced with the stark reality of the dangers Matthew faced and of the risk to his life; real, harsh evidence that someone had tried to kill him. She felt her anger register and rise from her stomach but she tamped it back down.

"You should have seen it a month ago. It was twice as long and…"

She rolled her eyes and her hands went out to her side in exasperation. "Honestly, Matthew."

"Sorry," he apologized and relaxed again at the feel of her ministrations as his lips turned up in to a grin. Her fingers were warm and tender and the feel of her touch made him tingle. As he watched her kneeling between his thighs, her head bending over his abdomen, an inappropriate and risqué image flashed in to his mind. His heart almost skipped a beat at the very thought of it and his breath hitched in his throat.

"Did you say something?" She asked looking up at him earnestly, her full black eyelashes framing her dark brown eyes.

He swallowed thickly. "No, no. Not at all."

Mary finished applying the solution. As she applied the last few dabs of medicine, her eyes peeked downward, where she couldn't help but notice a trace of soft brown hair around his lower abdomen and how it appeared to trail underneath his trousers. She blinked her eyes and refocused on her task and assessed her work with pride. "Ah, there, that does it. All better."

Matthew looked down as best he could to appraise her handiwork. "Well done, Nurse Crawley."

She smiled up at him. "It's Mrs. Crawley to you, sir."

* * *

When Mary returned from the washroom, she had readied for bed. She let her hair down but had not braided it. She saw Matthew lying back on one side of the bed, close to the edge of the mattress, where he had dozed off. He was still dressed in his trousers and white under shirt. Walking around, she saw that a brown military shoe dangled from his hand. His legs were stretched out on the bed, and one foot still had a shoe on it. She smiled and reached down and ever so carefully took the dangling shoe from his hand and set it down on to the floor. Moving down the bed, she went to work gently untying the laces of his other shoe, and tenderly slid it off his foot, and set it on the floor with its companion. Her finger tips had brushed his socks which still felt damp from the rain earlier in the evening, so she pulled one down over his leg and tugged it off.

Mary suddenly paused and stood motionless at the sight of Matthew's foot. There was a light pink discoloration over the top of it and around his toes, and the skin was somewhat wrinkled. She reached down and removed the sock from the other foot, and found the same condition. _Trench foot_, she thought… She had read about it, of course, and knew it was from exposure to mud and damp conditions. "Oh, Matthew," she whispered to herself. Bayonet wounds, trench foot. In all this time since the start of the war, he had never mentioned its toll on him personally. He looked resplendent in his uniforms, and always appeared healthy and vigorous, so it had never occurred to her that what was underneath his uniforms did not match his spotless exterior.

She looked up at his sleeping face. He was dead to the world. Only three days earlier he had been missing behind enemy lines, fighting for his life…as he had been doing for over two years. _Two years_… She suddenly realized how exhausted he truly must be. She remembered his uniform tossed over the chair and glanced over at it, wrinkled and crumpled over the chair. Something caught her eye and she stepped over to it. There, peeking out of the pocket of his tunic was the little stuffed dog she had given him nearly two years earlier for good luck. She rubbed it's tiny ear and felt how soiled it had become as it was serving at the Front alongside Matthew. She felt a lump in her throat as she remembered Mrs. Stringfellow's advice…_The_ _important thing is that when you and Captain Crawley are up in your little room together, that he knows you love him and that you will take care of him, no matter what. _

Mary knew exactly what she had to do…


	7. Chapter 7

Matthew slowly blinked his eyes open. The clock on the nightstand read just after midnight—he had been out for an hour. The room was still bathed in the glow of several lamps and the fireplace, which snapped softly across the room. But what was more intriguing was the incredible sensation coming from his feet. As he pulled himself awake, he became distinctly aware of the feel of tender massaging over his ankles, feet and toes. He glanced downward to find Mary sitting on the corner of the bed with his foot in her lap. Her hair had been let down around her shoulders, an act he was sorry he missed, and her warm hands moved sensuously but efficiently over his foot as she applied some sort of cream.

She looked up at him. "Oh, you're awake again."

He lay still watching her. "What is that you are applying?"

"Diaper rash cream. Mrs. Stringfellow keeps it on hand for her niece's baby. She said she read about its use by the Army." As she looked at him again he stirred from the pleasurable sensation and a slight chuckle rumbled from deep within him. "Your case doesn't seem to be too bad though, but I wish you had mentioned it."

"A gentleman does not go about discussing his feet."

Mary wondered about what other things Matthew conceals from the world. "I hope I'm not tickling you."

He answered softly. "The war has taken away my tickles." He lay still enjoying the feel of her hands. "God, Mary that feels amazing." His voice was still filled with sleep. He happened to notice that his uniform was now hanging on several hangars, suspended from brass hooks behind the bedroom door. The tunic had been pressed, and someone had pulled his spare shirt from his bag and ironed it, along with his necktie. The leather belts were carefully laid on a table beside the door. "My uniform has been pressed. Did Mrs. Stringfellow do that already?"

Mary gently set his foot down on the bed, and carefully pulled his other foot in to her lap and began rubbing her hands over it. "No."

He looked at her curiously. "Am I to understand that you ironed my clothes?"

She smiled up at him. "You don't have to sound so surprised. The ironing room is just down the hall. I hope you don't mind my prying in to your bag for your extra shirt, but I know you always travel with two."

He shook his head. "No, of course not. I'm just…intrigued that actually you know how to iron."

Her hands paused. "I beg your pardon, just because I don't perform domestic tasks every day doesn't mean I don't know how to perform them, or maintain a home for that matter." She returned to massaging him. "My mother and Carson both educated me in many household duties."

"Was the art of massage one of them?" His head plopped back against the pillow in pleasure.

Mary glanced at him and noticed his back slightly arched for a moment and he made a purring sound like a big cat. She loved the feeling of making him feel like this. Her finger felt something around his ankle. She turned her attention to it, and looked down around the area to see what it might be. It looked like a small bite mark. "What is this little scratch here?"

"I'll only tell you if you promise not to make a thing of it."

She had made a vow to herself to take care of him which also meant not acting like a school girl around a man who is embedded in war. "I promise."

"Rats."

She froze. "_Rats_?" She bit her tongue and her heart thumped in her chest.

"They're not as bad as they used to be. But they are still a nuisance. The food must be better behind enemy lines, because that's where the bulk of them have taken up position."

She gathered herself and finished rubbing his foot. "Alright, then." She set it down on the bed and patted them both with a towel. "Feel a little better?"

"Mmmmmm…" was all he said, his head nodding in to the pillow. "Thank you."

She cleaned her hands with the towel. "I put the jar of that cream in your bag so you can use it at night to get your feet back in tip top shape. And they'll be as fresh as a baby's bottom." She moved to sit beside him on the edge of the bed.

He looked up at her, his eyes filled with affection. "You let your hair down." His tone was soft and tender.

Her lips turned up in to a crescent smile. "I usually braid it at night."

He reached up and delicately touched a strand. "I've never seen it down before, but I've always wonderd. It looks so beautiful just like this." He moved his hand further up and slid his fingers through it. "It's the color of cherry wood."

As he moved his fingers through her tresses, she leaned her cheek in to his palm. "When I was ironing your uniform I noticed you have the little stuffed dog in your jacket."

"Ah, you found Andromeda. We've been through a lot together over the past two years since you gave her to me."

Mary regarded him. "I wanted it to bring you luck."

He thought for moment. "Well, I'm still alive and here with you enjoying what is apparently supposed to be our wedding night, in a beautiful historical home. All in all, I'd say I have been very lucky, wouldn't you agree?"

Her eyes sparkled in the glow of the room and the nearness of him. "Yes, I'd say so."

They sat quietly for a moment and then his eyes grew more serious. "Mary, if I should come back different in some way…

She interrupted. "But that won't hap…"

"No," he cut her off, "hear me out, please." He took her hands by the wrist and held them against his chest. "It's inevitable. The more time I spend at the Front, every year that passes on the battlefield." He sighed quietly. "If I should be injured or come back broken in some way, I hope you won't feel pity for me. I couldn't bear it."

She hated this conversation but could tell he needed to have it. She felt her eyes water. "Oh, Matthew, I would never feel that way." She reached up and ran a hand over his hair, which was soft to the touch. "You will always have my respect and affection. _Always."_ Her fingertips brushed the hair from his forehead. "And if anything should happen, which it won't, but if it did, when you open your eyes I will be right there beside you in every way. Even if it meant the start of a different life, you will not be alone; and you will not be pittied."

Looking in to each other's eyes, their hands in each other's hair, Mary suddenly remembered Lavinia and Richard. She leaned up, "Well, I suppose we should call it a night." She stood and drew several blankets up over him.

He nodded reluctantly and watched as she went around to the other side of the bed and clicked off the lamps. Deciding to leave her dressing gown on, Mary pulled the covers back and climbed in to bed, and turned on her side, facing away from him. Even on the other side of the mattress, she could feel the warmth from his body.

He turned to look at her. The glow from the fireplace warmed the room and he could make out the slope of her shoulders, waist and hips. His voice was gentle and understanding. "Thank you, Mary."

"Sleep tight," was all she said, as a tear slid down her cheek.

* * *

**A/N **Thank you so much for reading this story and for all of your reviews and input! How kind of all of you to take the time to do that. Several reviews mentioned that there were no B&Bs in England during this time period. I completely agree. In fact, I lived in the UK for almost 6 years and I never saw a B&B sign on the many country roads I travelled, although I did enjoy several B&Bs in London, which were actually more like small hotels (one was the Westpoint Hotel near Lancaster Gate.) In Ireland I stayed at several lovely B&Bs, in Belfast and near Limrick, one of which had been the home of Charlotte Bronte. The only reason I scripted it in to this story was to write it in a way that people might identify with more...so a little poetic license at work. Thank you for writing and for helping me be a better writer! :)

I loved the review about the Stringfellows being creepy and possibly having a sex dungeon...LOL. Yes, it could have gone in that direction, but will not. :) I wanted them to say all the things the audience wants to say to M/M.

If your thinking this story is about to get a little saucy, you would be right... :)


	8. Chapter 8

Mary awoke at the feel of Matthew's warm body curled around behind her, his arm draped over her hip. They were still separated by the covers, yet it still felt intimate and warm in the chilly March night air. She exhaled thinking about how waking up next to Richard would never feel like this; and she was envious that Lavinia would someday be bedded with Matthew every night for the rest of her life as his wife. She pressed her eyeslids together tightly to push both thoughts out of her head. For now, on this night, he was home and they were together, and that was all that mattered.

She leaned up to glance at the clock, and her movements prompted him to stir. His arm tightened around her and his hand pressed against her waist pulling her closer to him. "What time is it?" He mumbled behind her ear.

Mary smiled to herself at the feeling of his strong embrace and warm body. Indeed, like a big cat cuddling up behind her. "Half passed two." She reached down to his hand and caressed it reassuringly, and as she did he nuzzled his nose into her neck.

She instinctively arched back against him, reaching a hand up in to his hair. He began pressing tiny, feather light kisses around her ear, sending butterflies throughout her body. His hand moved from her center up the front of her dressing gown, his fingertips grazing tenderly and tantalizingly over the swell of her breasts. The instant his fingers grazed over the fabric covering her nipples, they immediately tightened from his touch, eliciting a moan from him against her ear. "Oh, Mary..."

Mary sighed, turning her head slightly and he gently tugged her toward him, rolling her half way on to her back. He leaned up on his other arm, his lips now able to find her mouth. They kissed sleepily, nipping at each other's lips, sharing their warm breath in to each other. Mary parted her lips wider, letting him taste her, until he had positioned himself leaning over her and he covered her mouth with his, sliding his tongue around hers and deeper in to her mouth. She moaned in to him wanting him and needing him, and tenderly sucking on his tongue.

His hand explored her body, up and over her breasts and then down and around her abdomen where he caressed her gently. His fingers pulled at the knot on the sash of her robe, and she reached down to help him. He pulled away from their kiss to look at her in the moonlight and she could see the sparkle of his eyes and a faint smile turning up at the corners of his wet lips. Together their fingers freed the sash and he tugged it loose, opening her dressing gown. Glancing down over her, he realized that her cream night gown was sheer and he could see through it. The sight of her dark round nipples through the fabric caused his breathing to quicken. He bent down and placed warm wet kisses over her throat and down over her chest. Mary panted as she felt his tongue trace over one of her nipples through her nightgown, her breath catching and she arched her back, her hand pulling his head closer for more. Her other hand reached down and tugged at her nightgown, exposing her breast for him. He closed his mouth over her, sucking and laving at her until she nearly cried out in pleasure, her head rolling in the pillows.

His body was trying to find more contact with hers, but they were still separated by bed covers. They were tangled up in sheets and blankets, and were both now panting in frustration. As Mary pushed the sheets down, Matthew moved his hips so they would slide out from under him. Finally they had pushed them all the way to the foot of the bed, out of the way, and he rolled nearly on top of her and she could feel his arousal and the strength of his arms going around her. She pulled at the hem of his under shirt and in no time it was discarded to the floor. Mary's robe joined it shortly thereafter. He tugged at the straps of her night gown, pulling them down gently over her arms until her bare chest was pressed against his. Her nipples stiffened and tingled as they brushed against the hair on his chest.

His head was buried in the crook of her neck, kissing her and murmuring in her ear. "Oh, God, Mary…"

"Matthew, I was so worried about you…when they said you were missing," her head fell back deeper in the pillows, exposing more of her neck to him.

"I am so, so sorry…" his lips were grazing tenderly up her neck to her jaw.

Her fingers slipped through his soft blond hair. "No, no, it's not your fault. But I thought I might not ever see you again," her voice caught with emotion.

His lips glided over her mouth, chin and cheeks. One of his legs had found its way between hers, as he was straddling her hip. He rubbed against her and pressed his thigh up against the apex of her body. He looked down at her, watching her as his other hand slid between her legs. She writhed from their movements. She opened her eyes and looked up at him and it took his breath away. His fingers found her wet and swollen center. He stroked her gently and she immediately arched in pleasure. His fingers swirled over her folds and slid inside the vale of her body and suddenly her head turned in to his shoulder, her fingers gripping his arms and she cried out softly, her release slightly muffled as her body trembled. Matthew bent down and placed soothing kisses along her hairline.

Her breathing was still ragged as he kissed her. Her hands slid over his torso wanting to feel more of him on top of her and all round her. They both reached for the button of his trousers, fumbling in the darkness. Matthew's mind was a whirlwind of emotion, desire and arousal. He felt swept away as their hands worked to free his body, and his head raced, trying to remember if he had a French Letter in his overnight case…he knew he didn't. The images of Carlisle and Lavinia flew through his thoughts. His body ached for her and his heart yearned to love her in this way; and he knew making love to her would mean making a child inside of her.

His own words echoed in his heart… _It's inevitable. The more time I spend at the Front, every year that passes on the battlefield. _He knew this time would be different. He instinctively knew that something would happen; his luck was running out. He paused and rested his forehead against hers, and held her hand in his. "Mary…" his whisper floated between them, suspended in the moonlight.

She laced her fingers through his. She knew as well as he did. She felt her womb ready for him and knew if they were carried away in this moment their love would fill the void in her body with a beautiful baby, with blond hair and blue eyes. A part of her wanted them to…yet she knew aside from the scandal and risk it would bring to their lives, what if Matthew had been right? What if something happened to him? "I know," was all she said as she moved her arm up and around his strong shoulders.

He whispered against her skin. "There is nothing I want more in the world right now than to make love to you." He pulled her closely to him. "I want you so very, very much."

She nodded in to his neck. "I know."

"But if I don't come back…"

She wept harder at his words. "Please don't say that…"

"I cannot bear the thought of never holding our child." His emotion overwhelmed him and he felt a tear trickle down over his lips. Mary turned her head and kissed him, tasting his tear in her mouth.

He lay back down against the pillows and Mary rested her head on his chest, their arms wrapped around each other. She looked up at him and he reached toward her and ran his hand through her hair. She closed her eyes and the feel of his touch and the memory of his kisses lulled her to sleep.

* * *

The dawn peeped through the windows. Mary's eyes fluttered open and she blinked several times and gathered herself. The bed felt chilly, so she snuggled deeper in to the covers. Bringing the room in to focus, she saw Matthew standing in front of the vanity. He was dressed in his uniform, fastening his Sam Browne strap to his waist belt. She watched in silence as he tightened the knot of his necktie, and then ran a comb through his hair, making sure every strand was in place. She admired how handsome he was and she secretly took pride in how smart his uniform looked.

Realizing she was waking up, he stepped over and sat down on the edge of the bed, bracing his palms on either side of her head. Mary looked drowsy, her eyelids heavy and her nightgown was askew revealing a hint of cleavage. Her hair was fanned out over the pillow. She had not pulled the covers up around her chest, so he could still see through the sheer fabric. He reached down and pulled the sheet up to cover her. "Hello," he whispered.

She smiled up at him and bunched her hands in the sheets. "Hello."

As he leaned over her, his face was just inches from hers. His voice was hushed. "It's still early. You should go back to sleep for a little while."

She sighed and hummed at the thought, and from his warmth. He smelled like vanilla and fresh leather and she could detect the minty aroma of his toothpaste. "Do I smell coffee?"

He smiled. "I brought up a tray for us. There's coffee, tea, juice and several miraculous orange muffins that Mrs. Stringfellow made." Her morning beauty made his heart ache. It would be so simple, he thought. One kiss and he knew they would both be lost. They would never be able to deny themselves a second time. It would start with a small kiss…perhaps he would nuzzle her cheek and kiss her ear. And their hands would explore each other's body, pulling clothes away and pushing the sheets aside. He would trail his kisses down her body and lap his tongue at her center, indulging his need to taste her and give her sublime pleasure. And her hands would fist in his hair, tugging him up to meet her lips again. And she would open herself to him, and he would slide achingly deep inside of her, pushing and thrusting in and out of her and driving them both to the brink of insanity with ecstasy until he filled her with his love and their child. He would fill both of their hearts.

But instead, this morning…he would offer her a cup of coffee. "Would you like some?"

Her eyes slid closed and she mumbled. "It sounds lovely. Maybe I'll just sleep for a few more minutes and then have some?"

He stood and crossed the room to the tray. He picked up the silver coffee pot and poured several inches of the hot brew in to one of the porcelain cups and saucers, and then set it on the night stand for her.

"Thank you," she mumbled, yawning again. Looking up at him she thought about how beautiful he was. She wished she could go back in time and reject Aunt Rosamond's fateful and stupid advice, and accept him...given another chance she would accept him on the spot, without hesitation, and with all her heart.

He bent over and touched his lips to her forehead. "I have to meet John downstairs so we can check on the status of the car repair. I'll be back in a little while."

Her ears followed the soft cadence of his footsteps as he left the room and went down the hall, the sound singing her to sleep and breaking her heart at the same time.

* * *

**A/N ** Thank you for reading, lovely people! So, our accidental newlyweds shared some sauciness, but then found their self control. **sigh** But do not despair and remember that this story is not over. :) Also, thank you for mentioning the typo on my last chapter...indeed, 'massage' not 'message'! :) I have reposted with the correction. I curse spellcheck! Ha ha!


	9. Chapter 9

Matthew reached in to the backseat of the Austin and situated their suitcases. He shut the door and looked over to find Mary standing in front of the Stringfellows and saying goodbye.

"Thank you ever so much for everything. You, and your lovely home, made our adventure with the motorcar so very pleasant. I can honestly say I'm happy we had car trouble." She smiled a genuine, bright and appreciative smile at the older couple.

John held his hand out. "The pleasure was all ours, my dear. You shouldn't have any more problems from here on in." Mary was glad to hear that because she couldn't possibly spend another night with Matthew and resist what they had both had felt the night before.

Standing beside her now, Matthew shook Harriet's hand. "Thank you so much for taking care of us and for all the wonderful things you did to make our stay so special."

Harriet clasped his hand warmly. "Oh, it was our treat and it was incredibly kind of you to let an old couple indulge you two newlyweds." She looked at her husband and then back at Matthew. "I wonder, Captain, if you might be able to help us with something?"

He cocked his head. "Oh?"

"Yes, well, you see our son Tom is at the Front. He has been gone for what seems like ages."

Matthew looked at Mary from the side of his eyes and then back at Harriet and John. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize. I don't think you mentioned it."

John chuckled. "We've gotten superstitious in our old age." He reached in to his pocket and produced an addressed envelope. "My wife and I drafted a letter to him but the Royal Post is awfully slow these days. And since you will be there in a matter of days, we were wondering if you might be able to see that it gets to him?"

Matthew's expression revealed his sentiment in his eyes and soft smile. "Of course. I'll hand deliver it." He took the letter from John and reached in to his breast pocket where he tucked it away.

Harriet shook his hand. "I hope your wedding night stay with us will be a memorable one young man." She smiled earnestly.

Matthew shared a knowing glance with Mary and then removed his cap and leaned over and kissed Harriet's cheek. "You took the words right out of my mouth, madam."

* * *

Aunt Rosamond's house was nestled among the elegant white row houses in Belgravia. Mary and Matthew stepped in to the opulent foyer, followed by a footman carrying Mary's luggage from the car. They stood beside a large, round pedestal table with an enormous spray of flowers in a Ming vase. Mary looked around, tugging off her gloves one finger at a time. "When do you go back?" She knew her tone sounded insecure but she couldn't help it.

Matthew looked around taking in the beautiful surroundings. "My train leaves from Victoria Station at six a.m. the day after tomorrow."

She pressed on. "Will you be seeing Lavinia right away today?" It came out awkward, but she had to ask.

Matthew removed his cap and held it self-consciously. "Well, about that. I've been giving it some thought, you see."

Mary looked up, expectantly. "Oh?" Her heart was in her throat.

He took a step closer. "I think we ought to consider…"

His comments were cut off by Rosamond, breezing in to the entryway hurriedly. "Ah, there you are! I'm so glad your little delay wasn't anything too terrible."

Mary tried to say something. "Oh, no, no, in fact it was quite lov…"

Rosamond cut her off again. "Matthew, I'm so glad you're here. Lavinia telephoned earlier."

He looked at her with concern. "What about?"

"Well, I'm so sorry to have to share this just as you walk in the door, but it seems her father has had a heart issue. A heart attack, I think."

Matthew's eyes widened. "Oh, God, poor Reggie. Where is he now?"

Rosamond handed him a small white piece of paper. "He is in hospital. I wrote the information down for you."

Mary looked from Matthew to Rosamond. "Oh, no. Lavinia must be beside herself with worry."

Matthew let out a long breath and reached up placing his cap back on his head. "I'll go right away. Thank you, Cousin Rosamond, for bringing this to my attention." He looked at Mary. "I'm so sorry for running off so quickly."

She shook her head. "Don't be silly. You're needed elsewhere."

He nodded. "Thank you, Mary." He turned and headed out the door and down the front stoop.

Mary stood by the window and wrung her hands as she watched him get in the car and drive away. She raised a hand, knowing he would never see it.


	10. Chapter 10

Victoria Station – Six A.M

The train platform was packed with porters, passengers, and uniformed personnel of every kind carrying luggage, bags and boxes. Steam swirled around his cavalry boots as Matthew walked toward his rail car, carrying his bag. As he walked he looked around, not entirely sure what he was expecting to see. He had visited Reggie Swire in hospital, and had dinner with Lavinia, who was spending her days at her father's side. Lavinia had never come to see him off at the train station, so he walked on his own to board the train to France.

He glanced at his ticket and then at the platform number for a First Class car on a train bound for Paris Gare du Nord. It was a long passenger train, with stately seating sections as opposed to the small intimate class cars seen in Yorkshire. An old porter with a bushy, silver mustache approached him. "Headed for Paris, sir?"

Matthew smiled. "Yes, I hear it's lovely this time of year," he said teasingly to the older man. He flashed his ticket and followed the steps up in to the train, taking his cap off, and turned to walk down the aisle, looking for a vacant seat. He tossed his trench coat over the back of a seat, stowed his bag overhead and sat down. He paused and leaned over to look out the window again, looking for something. He wasn't sure what he expected to find among the sea of people milling about the station at such an early hour. He set his cap down next to him, and glanced around, finally eyeing a London Times on the seat across the aisle. He picked it up and snapped it open, and was turning several pages when from out of the corner of his eye something caught his attention. He set the paper down and stood up to get a better look out the window, when he saw her. _Mary_, he thought… He reached up and pulled hard on the window to open it, but it was jammed. He immediately turned around and headed back up the aisle, stepping around other passengers, muttering Pardon me's and Excuse me's as he pushed his way through.

He bumped in to a woman helping her son. Matthew exhaled a frustrated breath. "I do beg your pardon." And then he ran in to the old porter.

"Just a minute, Captain. Are you on the wrong train?"

Matthew spoke quickly. "I just realized someone is here to see me off and I must see her." He tried to step around but was blocked. "It's my…" he stuttered for the right words but issued the ones that were in his heart. "It's my wife you see and I had no idea she would be here this morning and," he was out of breath trying to explain. "Please, I must say goodbye to her! I must catch her before she leaves!"

The porter held a hand up. "Alright sir, but post haste. This train departs in three minutes on the dot."

"Thank you! Thank you very much!" Matthew flew past him and was putting his cap back on as he quickly took the steps back down to the platform. He looked to his left and then to his right. "Mary!" He called out, not sure if it had really been her at all. He angled his head in one direction and then the other again. He had been sure he saw her red hat.

Mary walked along the platform, looking from one train car window to another, and had all but given up. She stopped and looked at her watch. She suddenly thought she heard her name. She turned around, looking through the sea of people. There were so many uniforms it was impossible to distinguish one soldier from another.

"Mary!" She realized she heard it again. She spun around in the other direction, and finally saw him. It was Matthew, walking toward her, side stepping people right and left trying to make his way to her.

"Matthew!" She called out to him and began walking briskly, holding her skirt up, and reaching up with her hand to keep her hat on her head as she flew along the platform.

He ran the last few feet and threw his arms around her and lifted her up in to his arms. "Mary!" He laughed breathlessly in her ear. "I can't believe you're here."

Her arms were wrapped around his shoulders tightly as she chuckled, deliriously happy that she caught him before he left. "I didn't think I would catch you!"

He set her feet back down on the ground, but kept his arms around her, pulling her to him, not wanting to let go. After a moment, he stepped back to look at her. "I only have a minute."

"I know. I just couldn't let you leave without saying goodbye." She looked up in to his sky blue eyes that made her smile. "Was Mr. Swire alright?"

He nodded. "Yes, I think he'll be fine, thank goodness."

"I'm so glad." She fidgeted looking up in to his eyes. "You have Andromeda?"

He smiled. "Safe and sound in my pocket."

"Here," she said and held up a brown bag. "Something for you to take with you."

He clasped the bag and gazed at her. "What is it?"

She was straightening the buttons of his tunic. "Wool socks, more diaper rash cream and some of those orange muffins of Mrs. Stringfellow's that you liked so much—I asked her pack extra when we left so you could take them with..."

She was cut off by his lips as he kissed her urgently. She wrapped her arms around his neck, whimpering in to his mouth as her heart broke knowing what he felt—that his luck had run out. She refused to believe it, but nevertheless it would now haunt her every day until he returned.

The train whistle blew and the porter announced the train's departure. Matthew kissed her lips, her cheeks and hugged her fiercely. "Thank you, Mrs. Crawley," he said teasingly in to her neck.

She couldn't speak because her heart was in her throat and her eyes were filled with tears. "Where ever you are, I'll know it…I'll _feel_ it. You won't be alone. Do you understand me?"

"Yes," he nodded in to her "Yes." Finally, he pulled away.

The old porter shouted after him. "Captain!"

"Goodbye, Mary. And God bless you." He smiled and turned and walked quickly down the platform and boarded the train. Just as his boots were up the stairs, the train's immense steel wheels began to churn and white steam vented from the side of the train, blowing around Mary's frame. Its whistle blew, echoing loudly and mournfully throughout Victoria Station. She waited, standing on the platform, her purse clutched in her hands in front of her.

Matthew looked out the window. The platform, filled with hundreds of people only moments before, was now empty, except for Mary. She stood alone, watching as the train pulled out. Matthew never took his eyes off of her, watching as the platform disappeared and her frame grew smaller and smaller. "Goodbye," he whispered to himself.

Soon, the window was filled with London passing by as the train headed east. He sat down in his seat and took his cap off and set it down beside him. He opened the brown sack she had given him, and smiled at the smell of the orange muffins. He eyed the contents and saw several pairs of socks and the cream. To one side he noticed a small piece of paper. He reached in and pulled it out and opened it. In Mary's handwriting were the words:

_A garden of Eden just made for two  
With nothing to mar our joy  
I would say such wonderful things to you  
There would be such wonderful things to do  
If you were the only girl in the world  
and I were the only boy._

* * *

**A/N**A few more scenes to go...so more to come. Everyone knows I like happy endings for M/M, so this story will continue that trend. Skirting the edge of canon and AU. Thank you, again, for all our reviews and helpful input! :) And thank you for reading my story. :)


	11. Chapter 11

Amiens, France – March 1918

Matthew was reminded how cold, wet and dreary France was in March as he made his way to the British Expeditionary Communications center. Even though the regimental headquarters was more than a mile from the trenches, his boots were caked with mud as they sunk in to the weather soaked path he was following to Stringfellow's office. The rain tapped against his helmet and streamed down over his trench coat. He reached up and pulled his collar around his jaw as high as it would go, and fastened the buckle under his chin to keep the rain out as much as possible.

The tent up ahead of him had a makeshift sign on it that read 'Colonel Thomas Stringfellow, BEF Communications'. A young corporal stood outside smoking a cigarette. Assessing the soldier's well manicured appearance and the cut of his uniform, Matthew pegged him as Stringfellow's batman.

The soldier snapped to attention and saluted as Matthew approach. "Good evening, sir."

"Good evening, Corporal." Matthew returned the salute.

"Can I help you sir?"

"Yes, thank you. I'm Captain Crawley and I wonder if I might have a word with Colonel Stringfellow?"

The corporal shifted his rifle from one shoulder to the other, dropping his cigarette in to the mud. He reached in to his pocket and pulled out another. "Do you have an appointment sir?"

Matthew shoved a hand on to his pocket and pulled out a lighter and lit the young soldier's cigarette. "Afraid not. But it should only take a moment if he could spare it."

"I'll check sir. One moment please." The young soldier made a crisp about-face and entered the tent. As Matthew waited outside, standing in the rain, he looked down at his feet, encased in mud and water. He chuckled within himself at the notion that the baby cream had actually worked and his feet were almost completely healed and felt fine. He wriggled his toes inside his boots and two pairs of wool socks. He fleetingly recalled waking up to the massage Mary had given his feet. Had that only been five days before? Somehow it seemed like a lifetime. Time slowed down to a crawl at the Front.

"Captain Crawley?"

Matthew's head snapped up. "Yes, corporal?"

"He'll see you sir. Right this way." The corporal stepped aside and motioned for Matthew to enter.

Matthew unbuckled the strap under his chin, adjusted his collar back down, and removed his helmet as he entered the tent. There were kerosene lamps on boxes and one hung from the canopy casting a glow around the tent. The uniformed colonel in front of him, bent over a table covered with maps, turned around and sized him up. Matthew was taken aback by the colonel's appearance. Stringfellow was about the same height, with blond hair and pale blue eyes. His hair was short and parted to one side. He was slightly older and wore glasses but they could pass for brothers. Matthew stopped just short of the colonel, stood at attention and announced himself. "Captain Crawley, sir."

"At ease, Crawley."

"Thank you sir."

Stringfellow reached down to the table and picked up a shiny silver smoking case. He opened it and slid out a pre-rolled cigarette. "Cigarette, Captain?"

Matthew politely waved his hand. "No thank you, sir."

He snapped the case shut and tossed it back on the table. "Well if you change your mind, don't be shy." He put the cigarette in his mouth, lit it, and took a long pull and exhaled. He noticed that he and the young captain in front of him had similar features, except the younger man looked like he just returned from leave. He appeared rested and restored, and he instinctively liked him. "Now then, what can I help you with Crawley?"

"I'm sorry to bother you without an appointment sir, but I have a letter for you."

The colonel took another draw from the cigarette. "Yes, yes, well get on with it Crawley, we're in the middle of a war. And if this is another request to route supplies north, the answer is still no. St. Quentin is taking everything we've got."

Matthew cleared his throat. "No sir, it has nothing to do with that. It's of a personal nature, sir."

He had Stringfellow's attention. "Go on, Captain—preferably in this lifetime."

He reached in to his breast pocket and pulled out the letter from Harriet and John and held it out. "I have a letter for you from your parents, sir."

The colonel's expression immediately softened and his eyes opened wider. "My parents? Dear heavens, are they alright?" He took the letter from Matthew and read the handwriting on the front.

Matthew smiled. "Yes, they're fine. Quite amazing, actually."

Stringfellow stepped in front of Matthew, his face and voice were filled with compassion. "How do you know them, Captain Crawley?"

"I was a guest in their home recently. Just a few days ago, in fact, while I was home on leave."

The colonel laughed. "Let me guess, the B&B sign?"

Matthew chuckled. "Yes, I had a bit of trouble of with my motor, and saw the sign just down the road. Fortunately, your parents were kind enough to take me in."

Tom Stringfellow smiled. "You know, the house isn't really a B&B."

Matthew nodded. "That had crossed my mind, yes sir. In fact, they refused to take any money for my accommodations."

The older man laughed and nodded. "After my father retired from Lloyds, and my military assignments took me all over the world, they decided the house was too big for them to rattle around in all by themselves. So, they had the sign made and put it out front. I'm half expecting the authorities to shut them down for not having a proper license."

"Well, they were quite charming hosts and very helpful. As I was leaving left they asked if I could deliver their letter to you."

Colonel Stringfellow looked down at the letter in his hand, running his fingers over it sentimentally. "Damned nice of you, Crawley." He let out a long breath. "I suppose it has been a long time since I have been home."

"If you don't my asking sir, how long?"

Stringfellow had to think about it. "Just over a year I think." He put the cigarette up to his mouth again before stamping it out in the ashtray. "You see, Captain, I like to give the lads the opportunity to visit home first." He sighed. "My turn will come. Perhaps after this next push I'll make time." He paused again and looked down at the letter, a small smile evident around the corners of his mouth. He barked for the corporal, "Wilson!"

The young soldier stepped in promptly, rain dripping off every inch of him. "Sir!"

"Make a note please regarding my schedule. I have a matter requiring my attention and I should like to take some leave for it."

Matthew watched as the corporal's face brightened, clearly attached to his commanding officer and approving of the mention of leave. "I'll see to it straight away sir."

"Thank you, Wilson. That will be all."

"Yes, sir." He saluted and disappeared back out in to the rain.

Matthew nodded as he listened. "Oh, I forgot, I've got something else." He reached in to his pocket and gingerly pulled out a small round object wrapped in newspaper. He held it out. "It's a muffin, sir"

Stringfellow's expression lighted up like a school boy and he lowered his voice. "The orange muffins?"

"Yes, sir. I must confess this one is about five days old so it may be rather stale."

"Well, that makes it a month fresher than most of the food we eat around here." The colonel carefully lifted the newspaper wrapping and inhaled the aroma. "I'll have it with my tea while I read the letter."

Matthew felt the moment was right for him to make a request. "Sir, if I might, I would just like to say that I know this offensive push in St. Quentin is key to the effort and my men and I would like a piece of it."

Stringfellow looked up at him, all business. "I appreciate that, Crawley." He crossed to the table and picked up the smoking case again. "And you're right—this will be decisive." He put another cigarette in his mouth and lit it, exhaling the smoke. "But strictly off the record, there will be another next month, in April, closer to Amiens." He put his hands on his hips, his body squared. "We're going to need good men like you and your lads, so stay sharp and healthy so we can get through this." He took several steps forward, looking Matthew in the face. "But I can assure you, Crawley, before it's over we'll all have tasted some blood and gunpowder before this one is over…all of us."

Matthew's eyes were riveted to the colonel's face. "We'll be ready, sir," was all he said as the words took hold.

Stringfellow patted him on the arm. "Thank you for delivering my parent's letter. I appreciate it and it's a damned good reminder about the things that are important in this war." Off in the distance the sound of musketry could be heard along with the dull thud of shelling. He softened his voice again. "Are they very worried?"

Matthew spoke quietly and respectfully. "Yes, quite sir."

Colonel Stringfellow nodded in understanding. "Thank you." He set the letter in the table. "Was that all, Captain Crawley?"

Matthew stood at attention. "Yes, sir."

The two men shared appreciative glances, Matthew saluted and turned and walked back out in to the rain. He liked Colonel Tom Stringfellow and hoped they both would live to meet each other again someday.

He looked up in to the sky where nightfall was setting, and pulled his collar back up around his face. He turned and began walking back down the muddy path to the main road, thinking about his meeting, and a letter he would write to Mary telling her about Mr. and Mrs. Stringfellow's son. He felt good about it and the news from the colonel that he and his men would be a part of a key offensive in April. After all, it was the only reason he was in France in the first place. Come what may, he felt right about it all. Whatever may come, he could see it through…even the rain.

* * *

**A/N ** A few more chapters to come, but then end is near. Thanks, again, for reading! :)


	12. Chapter 12

July 1920 - Yorkshire

Matthew and Mary stood outside the front door of the Bed & Breakfast, the heat of the day wilting their appearance but not their joy. Mary reached over and plucked a tiny grain of rice from the lapel of her husband's navy blue linen jacket.

He glanced down. "It must be left over from the barrage of rice thrown at us when we left Downton." He smiled back over at her. "I think Edith purposely threw a handful in my face."

Mary chuckled and flicked the tiny grain away. "Just remember, the Stringfellows think we have been married since our visit in March a year and half ago." She gave him a cautious eye. "We mustn't let on that it has just been since this morning. We must behave like an old married couple."

His lips formed a playful smile as he leaned over and kissed her neck. "Remind me, again, why we're stopping by here?" He nuzzled her ear.

She giggled a little. "Because it happens to be on our way to our hotel in London. And because we've kept in touch with them all this time, it was the right thing to do." She cocked her head as Matthew's tongue grazed her earlobe. "Matthew! Please, darling…" she swatted his arm and then reached up and pressed a hand to her hair.

"One hour," he breathed out. "That's all we're staying, right?"

She nodded. "Yes, yes, of course. They know we're just dropping in for tea and to say hello. It's not a big thing."

Just then, the door opened, revealing a radiant Harriet Stringfellow. "Ah, my dears! Here you are!" She held her arms out, welcoming them inside.

Mary smiled. "Hello Mrs. Stringfellow. It is so very nice to see you again." She extended a hand.

"Oh, Mrs. Crawley, aren't we above such formalities?"

Mary relented and reached an arm around the older woman affectionately. "Yes, we are, indeed."

Matthew leaned down and pressed a peck against Harriet's cheek. "Hello, my dear lady. You look marvelous."

"Oh, Captain Crawley, you are flattering an old woman." She gave his arm a squeeze. "Now, do come in!" She led them to a formal sitting room, bright with bay windows, comfortable antiques and fresh flowers.

John Stringfellow walked in carrying a large silver tray with a china tea service. "Hello, young Crawleys!"

Matthew stepped over and politely took the large tray from Mr. Stringfellow. "Please, sir," he coaxed. "Allow me." As Matthew set the tray down he admired the porcelain tea set and the small platter of afternoon tea sandwiches. He felt his stomach growl remembering he hadn't eaten much at the reception. "This looks wonderful. But I fear you have gone to far too much trouble."

John put a hand on his back. "None sense, my good chap."

As Matthew stood up he asked about their son Tom. "And how is Colonel Stringfellow?" He smiled. "I had the privilege of delivering your letter and one of your delicious muffins to him in person when I went back to the Front. I carefully transported that little muffin as though it were the Hope Diamond."

John and Harriet shared knowing glances and their expressions grew more serious. "Yes, yes, we knew that you met Tom. He told us and truly appreciated meeting you."

Matthew felt a pit replace the growling in his stomach. He looked over at Mary who now looked as concerned as he did, and then looked back at their hosts. "Is everything alright?"

John removed his glasses and pulled out his handkerchief and began wiping the lenses. "I'm afraid Tom came home with an injury." He put his glasses back up to his face, holding Matthew's stare. "He lost his left hand and uses a cane." John sighed, "Damned shame," and looked down at the floor.

Harriet sat down on the sofa and poured tea in to one of the china cups. "Now, now, John. Captain and Mrs. Crawley only have a short time to visit today." She kept her voice light hearted as she handed the tea cup to Mary, who was now seated beside her.

Matthew couldn't help but think of Colonel Stringfellow as the strapping, confident military officer he met at the Front. "Where is he now?"

John regarded him. "He's out back enjoying some sun in the garden."

Mary watched Matthew's expression. She knew having only just overcome his own injury the previous year; Matthew was intensely interested and supportive of injured war veterans. He continued to visit the hospitals in Downton and Ripon talking with soldiers who were still recovering, and seem who might never recover, and he had spoken with Clarkson about a soldier's rehabilitation center that was being built in York. As she observed him now she could see his eyes reveal their genuine concern.

"Why doesn't he join us?" Matthew said looking from John to Harriet.

Harriet picked up another tea cup, but it rattled in its saucer so she set it back down. "I'm afraid he's been a little withdrawn with strangers." She sighed. "Tom always loved people so." Mary patted her hand and looked over at Matthew again.

"I see," Matthew said thoughtfully. "Well, I'm not a stranger. Perhaps I can take some tea out to him? I'd like to see him and catch up a bit, if that's alright?"

John's eyes brightened and the hint of a smile crept across his mouth. "That's a capital idea."

Harriet poured as splash of tea in to two tea cups. Matthew bent over and picked them up. He caught Mary's eyes as he followed John down the hall and toward the backdoor of the house that led to the garden.

John held the door open for Matthew, but stayed behind to let the two officers have a reunion of sorts. As Matthew crossed the lawn, carrying the tea cups, he saw the colonel sitting in a chair and holding book in his lap with his right hand. Colonel Stringfellow glanced up. He immediately recognized Matthew and stood up, slightly clumsily, with the use of a cane. "Hello, Crawley."

Matthew set the cups down and greeted him warmly. "Good afternoon, colonel. It's so good to see you again, sir!" Matthew could see that Tom Stringfellow used his remaining hand to support himself on his cane, so he refrained from attempting to shake hand.

"Forgive me," he said gesturing downward. "I'm still getting the hang of this damned stick."

Matthew laughed out loud. "Yes, I know the feeling, colonel. I was in a wheel chair for damn-near half a year, and in fact I still occasionally use a stick of my own."

"Yes, I remember when you were injured at Amiens, Captain. Hell of a shame about Corporal Mason. He was good man." Stringfellow sat down, and Matthew joined him in the chair across from his.

"Yes, he was. I've been in touch with his father. Corporal Mason's wife is on staff at Downton, so we see each other occasionally. I like to keep my eye on him, and make sure he's alright."

"And what about you Crawley? You look fit and healthy. Must be something in the air where you live?"

Matthew smiled politely. "It was a struggle, but my wife, Mary, is good for me, sir."

Stringfellow observed him and nodded. "Yes, I imagine that kind of love and hope is good for man."

"I highly recommend it, sir." He paused and spoke cautiously. "And you sir? You look well." It was an honest statement-he did look well but troubled. "How have you been?"

* * *

Mary stood by the window glancing out toward the expansive green lawn and gardens. She could see Matthew sitting beside the Stringfellow's son. She watched as the two men appeared to be in deep conversation, occasionally laughing. She glanced down at her watch to check the time knowing Matthew had only wanted to stay an hour so they could check in on time at Brown's Hotel in Mayfair.

"I know you cannot stay, my dear." Harriet's voice beside her pulled her attention back. "It will only take me a moment to step outside to interrupt the men so you can be on your way."

"No, wait," she touched a hand to Harriet's arm. "Let's just give them a bit more time, shall we?"

Harriet smiled and squeezed Mary's arm.

An hour later, as Mary and the Stringfellows sat in the sitting room, they could hear Matthew and Tom approaching through the dining room. Mary angled her head and could see Matthew cupping the colonel's elbow as they made their way slowly, but laughing about it. It lightened her heart to see Matthew so patient and kind to the Stringfellow's son.

As the men walked in, Tom walked over to Mary. "Hello, Ms. Crawley. I know we haven't met but I feel as though I know you." He had a warm disposition and held himself perfectly straight and squared, like a military officer would. "It's very nice to meet you."

Mary stood up. "How lovely of you to say, colonel. Matthew has spoken of you many times. The pleasure is all mine I assure you." Her eyes glanced over at her husband who smiled at her with pride.

"I'm afraid I have monopolized your husband," Tom started, "and I know you are one your way to London. Brown's Hotel is quite beautiful, and I don't want to delay your trip any more than I already have."

"You sure you can't remain for another stay with us?" John's voice was filled with sincerity. His warm eyes regarded both of them, like a father would look upon his children.

Matthew looked at Harriet and John and pressed his lips together. "It seems time has flown. Colonel Stringfellow and I were just discussing the new veteran's rehabilitation center in York." He cleared his throat and glanced at Mary. "You know, darling, we could stay on here this evening if you wouldn't mind?"

Mary was inwardly pleased. She knew it was their real wedding night, but she also loved Matthew for the size of his heart. Her smile beamed as she held his gaze. "I cannot imagine a nicer turn of events, dearest. But on one condition," She looked at John and Harriet, "only if we can have our old room back?"

Harriet clasped her hands under her chin. "I think that can be arranged my dears!"

* * *

As Mary primped in the lavatory across the hall from their old room, she smiled as she noticed Matthew's toiletries on the vanity beside the sink. She touched a finger tip to a bristled shaving brush which sat next to a small tin of shave cream, noticing that they had just been used when Matthew was in the lavvy earlier. Next were his straightedge razor, tooth brush and toothpaste-also both damp from recent use. Her eyes caught a bottle of after shave and she picked it up and opened it. Her eyes closed as she inhaled the aroma of his cologne, an infusion of Irish moss and leather. She screwed the cap back on and turned her attention back to her reflection in the mirror. She glanced over herself approvingly as she smoothed her hands down over the pale blue chiffon night gown she wore. She actually had a lovely black sheer peignoir for their wedding night, but decided to save that for the next evening at the hotel when they would be completely alone. The blue summer gown was elegant and somewhat more conservative considering she had to step across the hall to the washroom. She decided to leave her hair up, remembering the last time there were here Matthew had mentioned wanting see her take it down. The memory made her smile. It was hot but she slipped the matching dressing gown on anyway to cover up before tip-toeing back to their room.

As Mary shut the door quietly behind her, she saw Matthew. He was laying down on top of the bed, wearing his dressing gown, his legs stretched out down the bed to his slippered feet. _Just like last time_, she thought amusedly. She hung her clothes up in the armoire. Looking around she saw that Matthew had draped his suit, shirt and tie over the chair so she picked them up and hung everything next to hers. Standing in front of the cabinet she smiled as she looked at their things hanging next to each other, evidence that they now cohabitated.

She closed the doors and stepped over to the bed. She gingerly sat down beside him on the edge. His eyes slowly opened and he peered up at her. "There you are." He smiled at her. "Last time I woke up in a room with you I was receiving the most delicious foot massage."

She chuckled and ran a hand over his hand which was resting on his middle. "I was just freshening up." She laced her fingers through his, looking down at him. "I'm glad you wanted to stay over."

Matthew's hand squeezed hers. "I like the colonel and just felt there was more to discuss with him about the rehabilitation center. Dr. Clarkson sits on the board, and I think the colonel might be the perfect man to help run the thing."

Mary could see the wheels turning in his head. "I hope so. I know he enjoyed this evening, as we all did. I like these people."

"I do, too." As he looked up at her he noticed her hair. "Your hair is still up."

She leaned over and kissed him chastely, brushing her lips against his. "Yes, I'm afraid I've been spoiled by Anna. Perhaps you could help me with it?"

His smile spread slowly across his mouth. "Yes, I'd like that." He sat up against the headboard and Mary scooted closer to him. He carefully reached up to begin pulling a comb out, but then paused. "Do you have a special way that you do this?"

She grinned and shook her head gently. "Why don't you do it however you would like?"

Matthew's heart sped up. He had dreamed of taking Mary's hair down for as long as he remembered. He had fantasized about it. In one fantasy he pulled it down while he made over to her; in another dream she let her hair down while she was on top of him, riding him. He laughed inwardly thinking how silly those dreams were because it now seemed perfect to do it just like this, sitting as husband and wife on their wedding night. He reached up again and tenderly tugged at one of the tortoise shell combs. It slid out easily, and several thick strands of hair began to fall loose. He pulled several other combs out slowly, one at a time, and gradually her dark brown hair began to cascade around her neck and down over her shoulders. Her brown eyes glistened at him and Matthew couldn't take his eyes off of her. She leaned toward him again and kissed him, her lips lingering against his before sitting back again. He removed the last of the pins and now her hair fell and flowed around her. He softly slid several fingers through her mane. He rubbed her head and pulled his fingers through her strands. "Does that feel good?" His voice was quiet and hoarse from wanting her.

"Mmmmm..." was all she said leaning in to him, purring at his touch. "Yes..." she opened her eyes again and looked at him.

"You're so beautiful, Mary." He whispered to her. "I dreamt of this. At the Front, I would fall asleep and dream of touching your hair." He kissed her cheek.

Mary felt her heart swell at the notion that of all the things Matthew could have dreamed about, touching her hair was the most important notion to him. She leaned closer and grazed her lips over his. "You are the only man who has ever touched me like this."

His hands in her hair, he gently pulled her to him, kissing her fully. His lips played with hers and she opened herself to him, parting her lips and inviting him to claim her mouth. His tongue slid across her lips and in to their kiss. "Mary..." He pulled her closer and then he rolled them over, so he was leaning over her. Their kisses increased with more urgency, their teeth scraping and tongues swirling around each other. Matthew whimpered in to her mouth as Mary's hands fisted in his hair.

His mouth began trailing wet kisses over her chin and jaw. He pulled back to look down at her robe to see where the belt was. "You are so lovely."

Mary was panting. "This isn't my wedding night negligee."

He looked at her while his fingers pulled at the knot of the sash. "No?"

She shook her head slowly, feeling his hand untying the belt of her robe. "No. The real one is black satin and see-through."

Matthew leaned down to kiss her again. "See-through?"

She nodded in to the covers. "Yes." Her hands moved over his chest and down over his torso, searching for the belt of his robe. She found the knot and began tugging at it.

He was breathing heavily. "I'd like very much to see it." His head was spinning as he felt his body respond at the feel of her hands opening his robe.

"You will," she panted, "tomorrow night at the hotel. When we're properly alone." She arched her neck and rolled her head in the sheets.

He looked down at her again as he pushed her dressing gown aside. "I shall look forward to that." The blue chiffon was pulled tightly, revealing the outline of her breasts. "But this little nightie is quite lovely. God you are so beautiful..." He bent down and began kissing her again. Shrugging his robe off he rolled on top of her.

Mary tugged her dressing gown down and stretched her arms up and around Matthew's neck. Her entire body was flush with his, and she felt herself shamelessly rubbing against him. "Oh, Matthew, I have wanted you...wanted this..."

As her hips pushed against him, his responded by grinding back against her. They were starting an age old rhythm, touching, feeling, groping, grinding and panting against each other. Matthew groaned in to her mouth again and thought he would go mad from it all. He pulled at her nightgown, trying not to tear it. He wanted to go slowly, to savor every touch and moment, but their need was overpowering. He slid the blue nightie down over her body, exposing her breasts. Her nipples puckered in the night air, and he bent down and sucked tenderly at one.

Mary body arched upward. She was almost gasping for air, cradling Matthew's head in her hands. His mouth and tongue were doing amazing things, licking and suckling at one of her nipples. He moaned and the vibrations of his voice tickled and sent shockwaves through her body. He moved his head to her other breast, tracing and teasing it with his tongue. Her back arched again and she gasped. "Oh, God Matthew..." He sucked at her hungrily, reaching his other hand down between her legs.

Her nightgown was bunched around her waist, and he reached underneath it. His fingers slid over her abdomen and in to her panties. He found her soaking wet and he touched a finger tip to the swollen bud. She arched up against him again and the nipple he was sucking stiffened tightly in his mouth, so he sucked it harder, grazing his teeth over it.

"Matthew, please..." She whispered heavily as her hands were pulling at his night clothes.

Matthew slid down between her legs, gently pulling her undergarments off as he moved. He could smell her arousal as he placed several small kisses to her sex. Her legs fell open to him, and he dipped his tongue inside her, and then rolled it over her nub. Her hips lifted up off the bed and her hands grasped for his head, causing him to smile. He licked and sucked at her as he inserted first one and then two fingers inside her wet folds, slipping in and out of her. He suddenly heard a muffled cry and looked up to see that Mary had put her fist over her mouth as she came apart from his touch. The vision was so erotic he almost came from the sight of it.

Groaning, he leaned up and pulled his pajamas off. Mary's nightgown was still around her waist so he reached out and tugged it off more roughly than he meant to, eliciting a gasp from her. He was so aroused his body was rock hard and he thought he might achieve orgasm before even being joined with her. The thought made him chuckle in frustration, but he used a hand to hold himself at her entrance. Looking down, in the lamp glow of the room, he saw his swollen purple head slip between her soaked folds, causing him to cry out softly as he sank in to her depths. "Oh, God...damn..." He had lost his ability to speak. Words now only came to him one at a time, not in coherent sentences.

Mary felt delirious and reached up to him to pull him closer. "I love you so much."

He braced his hands on either side of her head as he began to pump himself slowly in to her. His eyes slipped shut in ecstasy. "Oh, Mary my love...I love..." he wanted to say it but he felt himself coming. "Oh, Christ..." His hips began to move erratically.

Mary was keening as her body was thrust against the mattress by their movements. She peeked at him, wanting to see him in the throes of their passion. His hair was a mess, his jaw was clenched and perspiration glistened over his forehead and brow. He was so beautiful and Mary began to fall again, shuddering in his arms, panting his name...over, and over, and over.

Matthew's body went rigid and his head went back, his mouth open, but the cry was silent as he jerked in to her and against her. Mary held him as his head dropped down to her neck, and he groaned in to her, his fists bunched in the covers. Deep inside of her she felt a hot emission fill her depths, claiming her and soothing her body from within. It was foreign and erotic and amazing all at the same time.

Matthew sighed and slumped against her. They were quiet for several moments before he spoke and broke the quiet spell. "Oh, Mary...I'm sorry..."

She wrapped her arms around him. "Why?" Her voice was deep and soft.

He was trying to catch his breath. "I didn't mean for it to be over so fast." He kissed her neck. "I love you so much. I wanted you to feel blissful."

"Sshhhhh..." Mary slipped her fingers through his damp hair lovingly. "I did you silly, more than once..." She spoke breathlessly and kissed his head. "If it was any more blissful you would have to take me to a hospital."

Matthew laughed softly against her. He pushed himself up and looked down at her, and kissed her lips. Her face as flushed and her hairline was damp, and her breasts were pinked from where he had kissed and suckled her. He paused and gazed at her for several moments. "Would you like a glass of water?"

She nodded and watched him as he got up. Her eyes roved over his body, noticing that his penis was still slightly aroused. Never taking his eyes off of her, Matthew bent over and picked up a bathrobe, slipping it on and pulling the sash. Mary laughed up at him, and he smiled at her. "What?"

"Nothing, it's just that you're wearing my bathrobe."

Matthew looked down at himself and realized she was right. He had on Mary's blue dressing gown. He looked back at her with a smile on his face and shrugged. "If I should run in to the colonel it will no doubt be surprising."

"Actually," she teased, "it looks quite smart on you. That shade of blue matches your eyes." She snickered and he bent over her and kissed her mouth fully and openly, silencing her.

* * *

**A/N ** Hello dear readers! Sorry it took a few days to get this published. There are two more chapters to go! Thanks, again, for all of your reviews and input-I appreciate it. Hope you enjoy this installment. ...more to come! :)


	13. Chapter 13

Mary carefully balanced the white wicker tray as she stepped back inside their room, quietly closing the door behind her. She had been eager to be up before Matthew so she could be the one who retrieved a coffee tray for them to share and surprise him. She wanted him to sleep in. Her hair was still down, but tamed with a barrette and she had thrown on a cream blouse and tan skirt to be presentable when she collected their tray from Mrs. Stringfellow in the kitchen.

The morning sun gently flickered through the windows and the room was cooler. Summer had not woken up yet, and neither had Matthew. As she set the tray down on a side table the mismatched Wedgwood china quietly clanked. She happened to notice his necktie draped over the arm of the chair and she picked it up and reached to set it in his bag. Looking down in to his luggage, she saw the soft tattered ear of their little toy pup. She carefully pulled it out and admired it with a smile. _Andromeda_, she thought. She tucked it back in his bag and glanced over to the bed and eyed her new husband as he still slept, face down in the pillows and softly snoring.

She tiptoed over to the bed, admiring his long, naked physique. Due to the heat, she had folded the bread spread at the foot of the mattress, and the sheet stopped half way up his frame, revealing most of his backside and upper body. Her eyes were caught by the reddish scar and wrinkled skin from the combat injury across his lower back. It had healed, but its angry mark would always be a reminder. As Mary gingerly sat on the edge of the bed, she hesitantly touched a fingertip to the mark, gently soothing her digit over the area and then leaned over and softly touched her lips to the offensive wound, wanting to kiss it away.

Matthew stirred from the feel of her lips. "My darling," he murmured in to the pillow and rubbing his cheek against the soft muslin bedding.

Mary placed several more kisses on his lower back, and the palm of her hand smoothed over the mound of his bottom.

He purred from her attentions and reached down gently tugging on one of her arms, nudging her up toward him. He rolled over to look at her. "You're all dressed." His drowsy voice was tinged with disappointment.

She loved his sleepy expression. "I'm not exactly all dressed, but I had to pull something on to go downstairs to get a tray for us." His hair was sticking up, his blue eyes were bleary and he had a five o'clock shadow.

He smiled. "You brought a tray up? You shouldn't have done that—I would have been happy to take care that for us." He covered a yawn with his hand. The sheet had moved further south when he rolled over, exposing his lower abdomen and a trail of light brown hair, and his aroused body was outlined under the film of the sheet. She was so happy to see her new groom relaxed and happy, yet she blushed at the sight of his body.

Matthew self consciously reached down and pulled the sheet up just enough to cover him. "I'm sorry." His tone was soft and sincere. "I meant to put my nightclothes back on last night."

Mary felt ridiculous. "I should be the one apologizing. And you have every right to lounge about in your birthday suit."

The sound of hearing her say birthday suit made him smile.

"I'm afraid I'm a little modest, is all." Her fingers toyed with the hem of the sheet. "I know how silly that sounds at my age."

He reached up and cupped her cheek. "It doesn't sound silly. You don't have to explain, darling. It's perfectly alright. And pay no attention to how things may appear in the morning—it's just something a gentleman wakes up with now and again, but it goes away."

_Darling….she was his darling…._ His endearment made her smile at him as she traced a finger over his chest. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek, making him hum contentedly.

He lay still as she kissed him and ran her hand over his torso, reveling in the touch of his wife. He thought he should change the subject to help her feel more at ease. "Do I smell coffee and Mrs. Stringfellows hypnotic orange muffins?"

Mary nodded, brushing her cheek against his sandpaper stubble. "Yes." Her mind was becoming distracted as she planted several soft kisses from his cheek to his lips. Her dearest friend had become her husband and her heart swelled at the thought of it, and how girlishly foolish she was to feel modest at the sight of him. Her fingers tenderly nudged his hands away from the sheet and she slowly pulled it back down, eliciting a smile from him against her lips. Mary sat back up and looked down as she slowly drew the sheet completely out of the way, revealing his aroused body. The warm palm of her hand moved lovingly over his middle as she explored him in the morning light.

Matthew almost held his breath and his eyes were glued to her, watching her as she caressed him. She looked at him mischievously from under her eyelashes as her hand glided down and over him. "You're so beautiful, Matthew."

"That's funny," he breathed out, "I was just about to say the same thing about you." He stretched a hand out and rubbed her hip, content to lay still and let her touch him and become accustomed to him in their new intimate and married life.

Mary's fingers stroked over him, her eyes a study in curiosity and love. "Does it have to go away?" Her voice was coquettish.

As she spoke her fingertips moved up and over the tip of his arousal and Matthew's head went back in to the pillow and he quietly hissed in pleasure, his hand tightening on her hip. "Not if you keep touching it like that it doesn't."

She smiled and shuddered at how her touch and caresses affected him. She carefully slid her hand from his sex and caressed his thigh and leaned over and kissed his chest.

Matthew looked down at her with hooded eyes, moving his hands over her back and shoulders. "I love you, Mary. I'm so glad we were here in our little room again, just like our first wedding night." His hand pulled the barrette from her hair, causing it to fall around her face.

She kissed her way back up to his lips. "I am too." She sighed at the feel of his fingers unbuttoning her blouse and sliding it open. Her hands were braced on either side of his head, she held herself still as Matthew's hands moved warmly over her camisole. "When I was putting your necktie away I happened to see Andromeda in your bag." They kissed lazily as his fingertips caressed her breasts, his thumbs teasing her nipples in to hard tips. She thrummed at his touch.

"Yes, it would appear the little stowaway is still bringing me luck," he murmured as his head dipped to suck one of her nipples. He slid her blouse down over her arms. "Do you think the coffee will still be hot in twenty minutes or so?" His breath tickled and tantalized her as he spoke against her skin.

The feel of his lips on her breast and his wet tongue around her buds was coiling hot desire inside of her. She was losing the ability to think. "Yes," she breathed out, "Yes, yes, yes…" she whispered over and over again as she let him take her in the warmth of their wedding bed.

* * *

As Matthew and John returned the bags to the car, Mary stood with Mrs. Stringfellow and her son. "Thank you, again, for a wonderful time and for letting us stay in your home."

Harriet patted her hand. "I do hope you will come and see us again, Mrs. Crawley."

"Of course we will. You can count on it!"

Matthew joined them and he shook the colonel's good hand. "I'll be looking forward to your involvement with the veteran's hospital, sir."

"Thank you, captain."

Matthew smiled demurely. "I don't think I can really call myself a captain anymore. The war is long since over and my uniform is tucked away, permanently I hope."

Harriet clasped his hand and pulled him closer to her. "You will always be our Captain and Mrs. Crawley here, in our home."

Matthew chuckled appreciatively and bent down to kiss her hand. "Thank Mrs. Stringfellow. I will always think of your home as a very special place, indeed."

After more goodbyes, Matthew held the car door open for Mary. She stopped and turned to take one last look up at the home. "Did you forget something, dear?"

Mary sighed. "No. I haven't forgotten a thing."

He watched and could see the sentiment in her eyes. He whispered to her reassuringly. "Don't worry. We'll be back."

She looked at him sweetly. "You sure?"

He nodded and put a comforting hand on her arm. "Yes, absolutely."

Mary leaned down in to the car. Matthew walked around and then joined her on the other side, closing his car door with a firm thunk. He started the engine and the car breathed to life as they pulled down the drive.

Mary watched him. "You look like perhaps you forgot something. Did you?"

Matthew shook his head and smiled at her. "I gave," he stopped himself, "er, or rather, I loaned Andromeda to Colonel Stringfellow."

Mary wrinkled her brows. "You did?"

"She's brought me so much luck I thought he could use a little of it himself about now." He turned the car on to the main road, heading south toward London. "Don't worry. I know how special she is. I'll see him at the veteran's center opening ceremony."

Mary reached over and put her hand on his thigh. She gave him a bright smile. "I wasn't worried."

Matthew dropped one of his gloved hands to hers and intertwined their fingers together, and that's how they drove all the way to London.

* * *

**A/N** One more chapter to go! I"ll be a little sad to close this one out-it's been great fun to write. :) Thanks again for reading!


	14. Chapter 14

Three Months Later – York Veteran's Treatment Center

The afternoon sun shined off of Tom Stringfellow's hair as he stood in his uniform at the podium addressing the small audience of staff members, military dignitaries, board representatives and local gentry. He was providing the remarks for the opening ceremony. Matthew looked up at him from his seat in the audience, with admiration and respect. Stringfellow had made significant progress in his own physical rehabilitation, and would now oversee the rehabilitation resources for the patients being treated there. He had been appointed by the Army as head of the veteran's center and his new position also included a promotion to general. The general had also arrived accompanied by a female guest, a school teacher who was also a widow with several children.

Matthew was happy for them and for himself, and his expression and his disposition showed it. He looked at Mary out of the side of his eye as she sat beside him in a navy blue afternoon dress and matching hat. He glanced down to look where Mary's hand rested secretly against his thigh and put his hand in hers and gently squeezed, prompting a smile from her. He leaned toward her ear and whispered in his low voice, "I think the general's guest, Mrs. Carswell, is more than a guest, wouldn't you agree?"

Mary looked at him sideways whispering back. "So it would seem. Now hush," she added playfully, squeezing his hand in return.

Suddenly the audience broke out in muffled applause and rose, as the ceremony concluded. The general stepped over to Matthew and Mary, extending his hand. "It's nice to see you, two! You are both looking so well."

Matthew was pleased. "Thank you general, the pleasure is all ours."

"Indeed," Mary agreed, clasping her hands in front of her. "And by the way, it was so lovely to meet Mrs. Carswell." She and Matthew shared a sly glance.

General Stringfellow smiled. "I'm so glad. She and I have known each other since our school days. Her husband, Edward and I were at university together. It was such a tragedy when Edward was lost." He paused momentarily at the thought and then gathered his smile again. "But I'm happy we've found each other." His smile was infectious.

A familiar voice distracted them. "Hello my darlings!" John and Harriet strode purposefully across the lawn toward them. Harriet was carrying a small square box tied with a white ribbon. "Tom, darling, your speech was simply perfect!"

The general shared a knowing glance with Mary and Matthew. "Thank you, mother, I'm so glad you and pa-pa made it for the opening of the center."

John shook everyone's hand warmly. "We wouldn't miss it my lad…we wouldn't miss it!"

As the men chatted, Mrs. Stringfellow gently tugged Mary by the elbow. "My dear, you look marvelous!"

Mary beamed. "Thank you, Mrs. Stringfellow."

"I have something for you Mrs. Crawley," she said in a soft voice as if telling a secret.

Mary glanced at the box. "Your orange muffins?"

Harriet smiled. "Yes, but I'm afraid these are for the soldiers at the center."

Mary laughed. "Of course. How nice of you!"

"But I brought something even more special for you." Harriet reached in to her purse and pulled out a small folded piece of paper, holding it out to Mary.

"Good heavens. What's this?"

Harriet smiled. "It's the recipe."

Mary's expression brightened. "For the muffins?"

"Indeed my dear. I know how much your captain loves them, so you can make them whenever you like to surprise him."

Mary was touched. "Oh, Mrs. Stringfellow, I am delighted! Thank you so much! We will enjoy having them and they will always bring us memories of you and your lovely home."

Harriet grinned and leaned close to Mary. "You will find they also come in quite handy when you begin to have cravings."

Mary looked surprised. "Cravings?"

"Yes, yes, it's perfectly normal. You'll be making muffins by the batch-full before you know it." She chuckled. "I think that's in part how Tom learned to love them so much-I ate them constantly during my final months before he was born."

Mary's mouth was agape. "How did you…?"

"Oh, my dear, I can always tell when young ladies are in the family way. A mother just knows these things, and I couldn't be happier for the both of you!" She leaned closer to Mary and whispered. "Just remember, you must make the muffine yourself so they will be filled with the love from your heart."

Mary smiled and felt tears prick the corners of her eyes as she looked in to the older woman's eyes. "Thank you so very much, Mrs. Stringfellow."

"Darling," Matthew's voice joined their private moment. "We should be running along to meet your parents back at the house."

Mary was still looking at Harriet. "Yes, yes, quite right." She bent down and gave Harriet a kiss. "Thank you."

Mary turned to join Matthew as they walked toward their car. "Harriet mentioned the baby."

It was Matthew's turn to be surprised. "You told her?"

"No, that's just it…I haven't told anyone but she guessed. She said a mother just knows these things." She slid her arm tighter in to his. "And she gave me the orange muffin recipe."

* * *

Harriet stood and watched fondly as the young couple walked away. She liked Mary and Matthew, and it warmed her heart to pass the recipe along to them and to see them happy and beginning their family.

She felt John's hand on her waist. He smiled at her and kissed her forehead. "I was worried about those two when we first met them."

Harriet looked up at her husband. "Yong love and wartime is a funny thing." SHe sighed and leaned against him. "I think that first night up in that little room helped them cross a bridge when they needed to the most."

"Do you think we should ever tell them the truth?"

"You mean that we knew?"

He nodded and kissed her cheek.

Harriet waved a hand at him. "Oh, my love, don't be silly. It would only embarrass them." She slid an arm around his middle. "And besides, I think they were already married in their hearts."

John smiled at her. "As it was with us when we were that age?"

She chuckled up at him. "Yes, and that is all that really matters."

* * *

Matthew stopped dead in his tracks. "Good God in heaven! You mean we can now produce those scrumptious little miracles whenever we like?"

Mary laughed. "Are you talking about the muffins or the baby?" She tugged him back in to motion. "I'll make some for tomorrow morning if you like?"

He looked at her incredulously. "Did my ears deceive me or did you just say that _you_ will make them?"

She chuckled and leaned against him. "I know how to make muffins, Matthew. I'm not completely without skills in the kitchen you know." She craned her neck up to kiss his cheek. "And I'll fill them with love for you and our scrumptious little baby."

Fin!

**A/N **Thank you for reading this fun little story and for everyone's input and reviews-especially to Downtonlove for their recommendations! For those of you in the UK who will be watching the premier this coming weekend, enjoy and have fun! :)


End file.
